The Past in Front of You
by worldsapart
Summary: "When one dies a new one is called, but the old regime is about to fall." Buffy, Angel and gang encounter things from their past that could mean the end of it all. In the process, they discover the path to the future, and many changes in store.
1. Author Notes and Summary

SETTING: Immediately following Buffy/Angel seasons 4/1. Yes, I know it's been while. Trust me -- this story is going be a lot of fun, and you're going to see pretty much all of your favorite characters, so hold on to your seats. 

RELATIONSHIPS: Now you don't want me to ruin it for you, do you? Just suffice it to say that I fix a lot of what I consider the "injustices" of Buffy relationships... But also keep in mind that this is not taking into consideration anything that's happened since fourth season (well, almost nothing). 

SUMMARY: An age-old prophecy dealing with the age of the slayers comes to call. Buffy's legacy has only just begun. 

IS THAT ALL YOU CAN GIVE US? You really don't want me to tell you more. It would ruin the effect. This would be a SHOW ender, so expect big things. 

AUTHOR'S NOTES: First of all, I'd like to give credit to my cousin, who came up with a lot of these ideas with me when we were initially brainstorming this story, and who is always there for me to bounce ideas off of. This is kind of my attempt to make Joss's world turn out the way I want it to (at least, as I saw it at the end of fourth season). I started writing this before I saw any season 5/2 stuff (I know, it's been a long time in the making), so A) sorry about the way certain characters are portrayed/used, but I didn't like them at the time B) Spike's past had not been revealed, so I invented my own C) Gunn wasn't part of the team yet but I wanted him to be, so he is. 

DISCLAIMER: All these characters belong to the man, Joss Whedon, and Fox or whoever. This is just for fun, OK? But Gaby's mine--hands off. 

ADDITIONAL NOTES: You may recognize parts of this, as some of this story was posted previously. I'm in the process of revising and updating, so bear with me. I'll try to post as regularly as possible and get this story to the end it deserves (and the end is my favorite part! I can't wait for you to read it!). 

PLEASE REVIEW -- I LIVE FOR FEEDBACK! 


	2. Dreams of the Past, Chapter One

Book One - Dreams of the Past 

A safe but sometimes chilly way of recalling the past is to force open a crammed drawer. If you are searching for anything in particular, you don't find it, but something falls out the back that is often more interesting.   
-J.M. Barrie   


I could feel something in the air as soon as I hit Sunnydale, California. The Powers That Be had something important planned, that was for sure. The air smelled of danger, but the sky was bright with joy. Whatever was coming would not be easy. But then again, what was in Sunnydale?   


Buffy and Willow were sitting on Willow's bed in their dorm room, trying to study for their last finals the next day. For the last hour, they had been trying to hold their conversation to history and chemistry, but without success. 

"So," said Buffy cautiously. "How did it happen?" 

"You mean with Tara?" asked Willow. She didn't take offense at her best friend's curiousity. "I don't know. I was so torn up over Oz and then BANG--there was Tara. It just seems natural." 

Buffy was trying her best to hold her composure. This wasn't the sort of thing she was used to discussing with Willow. "So, like, are you, um, attracted..." 

"To guys?" interrupted Willow with a small giggle and a bright blush. "Yeah," she replied after thinking a moment. "I can't say that saying no to Oz was easy. I still miss him. It would just be way too complicated having him around." 

"Tell me about it," said her friend understandingly. "Things can be so confusing with Riley sometimes. I try not to think about Angel, but I still do. He makes me so angry and upset, yet in the back of my mind, I still have feelings for him." She paused and looked thoughtful. "If Angel were to walk in the door right now with a solution to everything that kept us apart in the first place, I don't know if I could trust myself to not just pick up and go back to him." 

"I just wish I knew where Oz is," said Willow. "You know how detached he can seem sometimes. I just don't want him to feel lost." She looked at her hands sadly. "He's lived here his whole life. If he can't stay here, with all his friends and everything he's known..." 

"Hey," said Buffy, putting a comforting hand on the red-head's shoulder. "Oz is a strong guy. He knows how to roll with the punches. I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of him."   


"Angel! I'm leaving! Don't forget that tomorrow is Friday. I won't be in until late afternoon!" Cordelia sighed, turned off the light and opened the front door. She glanced back at the room. 

They had only been in the new building a few days now, and it still felt a bit foreign. Cordelia missed the old place. There were so many memories there that she hadn't wanted to let go of. 

"You could at least say goodbye," she said, only loud enough for her to hear herself. She exited and hailed a taxi cab. 

Doyle. That was Angel's excuse for brooding that day. Not that he needed an excuse. The day before a demon had come to them for help- a Brachen demon. Finding that the job wasn't nearly as difficult as some they had had in the past, Angel had made short work of it and then had returned to his apartment (where he remained the rest of the day), leaving Wesley to finish up. 

So many months since Doyle's death and Angel still can't put it behind him, thought Cordelia as she settled into the uncomfortable backseat of the cab for the ten minute ride back to her apartment. I guess that makes two of us. 

Doyle's death had been noble, that much she understood. There was simply something not quite right about it. Overlooking the gaping hole that it had left in her emotions, and Angel's private mourning, his death still made her uncomfortable. He still had so much life left to live, yet it was all taken away so quickly that she could have blinked and missed the whole incident. 

"Miss?" said the cab driver, holding out his hand. "We're here." 

"Thanks," mumbled Cordelia, handing the driver some money. She climbed out and headed up to her apartment, still occupied with her thoughts as she unlocked the door and went inside. The lights flipped on as she walked into the living room. 

"Hi Dennis," she said, dropping her purse on the couch and walking to the kitchen. The refrigerator door swung open and a bottle of water floated out. "No thanks. I really just want to be alone for a while." A few seconds later she heard the tv turn on in the other room. 

Cordelia dropped to her knees and opened one of the cabinets under the kitchen counter. Reaching to the very back, she fished around a moment and then finally pulled out a medium-sized box. It appeared to contain random junk. Cordelia took it into her bedroom and closed the door. Then she sat down on her bed with the box in front of her. 

Angel had gone to Doyle's apartment after he died and cleaned it out. He had taken some of the items that were more personal in nature and put them in the box. Angel figured that if Doyle had given his most valuable possession - the visions - to Cordelia, then he probably would have wanted her to have the others as well. 

At first, Cordelia had only been able to cry when she attempted to look through the items. Finally, after several weeks of trying, she had shoved it into the back of the cabinet so she wouldn't have to think about it. Now that their office had been destroyed, Cordelia hoped that this box would hold something that would allow her to hold onto Doyle's memory. Because she was so scared of forgetting. 

Cordelia picked up a few things and looked at them. There was a small black and white photograph of someone she assumed was Doyle's mother. She smiled, seeing the great resemblance. She carefully set the fragile paper on her night stand. 

The next couple of things seemed merely trinkets to Cordelia, as they held no real value as far as Doyle's memory was concerned. There was a marble statue that looked like the Virgin Mary. It was chipped and dusty. Next to it was a gorgeously carved ivory letter opener. Cordelia had to giggle when she found herself wondering why he hadn't pawned the antique to pay off his debts. Her smile faded when she realized it must have held sentimental value. 

Another item caught her eye, and she dug down to the bottom of the pile to retrieve it. It was a small book, bound in dark green leather, with a gold shamrock engraved on the cover. She traced the title lightly with the tip of her finger--Irish Proverbs and Poetry. 

And then, for the first time since the few weeks after Doyle's death, Cordelia laid down on her bed, the book still clutched in her hand, and cried herself to sleep. 


	3. Dreams of the Past, Chapter Two

Tara was in her dorm room, sifting through a large stack of old spell books. A pile of haphazardly discarded ones lay in the corner, while a much smaller stack was positioned more neatly next to her. 

"I finally managed to get the Charmes de Mort," she said out loud with mumbled satisfaction. "Now I just have to find my copy of the Antigean Book of Power Centers. I know I have it." She continued to dig. "It's the only other one I need." 

Tara suddenly slapped her forehead. "I let Willow borrow it!" She picked up the phone and dialed. 

"Hello?" answered Buffy's voice. 

"Buffy, hi. It's Tara." 

"Oh, hi," said Buffy. She seemed unsure what to say next so she added, "Here's Will." 

"Tara, hey," Willow cooed. "How did you do on your Biology final?" 

Tara wanted to be impatient, but with Willow it wouldn't have felt right. "It was pretty good actually." Or it would have been if I could have concentrated, she thought. 

"Cool," answered Willow. "I'm glad." 

"So, I was going through some of my books today," Tara said, changing the subject. "And remembered that I hadn't gotten my power centers book back from you yet." 

"Oh! I completely forgot. I'm sorry - I should have gotten it back to you by now." 

"It's cool," the other answered. "Is there any way I can come pick it up?" 

Willow got excited. "Are you doing a spell? Something I can help with?" 

Tara hated to quelch her enthusiasm. "No," she lied. "I'm just trying to put them all in some discernable order." She faked a laugh. "I guess I've been around Giles too much lately." 

Her girlfriend giggled. "He does tend to have that affect on people. I even alphabetize my cds now." 

"So can I come over and get it?" 

Though a bit confused at Tara's persistence, Willow let it slide. "Well, it's at Buffy's house right now, actually. We started moving stuff out of our room and I'm storing most of my magic stuff over there - mom's not too keen on the whole subject." 

"Oh," said Tara. Her mental reply wasn't quite so neutral. 

"But listen," continued Willow. "Buffy and I just decided that we're going to have a party tomorrow night at her house, kind of an end of the school year bash. And you are most definitely invited. You could pick it up then." 

"That sounds cool. I'll see you tomorrow after class. Good luck on your final." 

"Thanks. You too. Bye." 

"Bye." Tara hung up the phone and scowled to herself. I don't have time for this. I need that book! All the necessary preparations are listed in there. With that, my spell will be ready to perform.   
  


Even at just barely 11:00 PM, Riley's eyes were beginning to droop. He hadn't felt like himself lately- not since their battle with Adam. He had been weak and tired constantly. No one knew though, not even Buffy. Riley figured she had more important things to think about. 

Giving up on trying to study, Riley reached up and flicked off the light next to his bed. He expected himself to fall asleep the second his head hit the pillow. 

But he didn't. Mixed with the lost energy was a frustrating restlessness, but this was the first time that it had kept him awake. 

He thought about calling Buffy, knowing full well that she'd still be awake, but that would just bring questions. Was he sick? Was something wrong? Should she come over? And he didn't want her worried about it. 

Riley sighed and rolled over. It was about two hours before he fell asleep. And that's when the dreams started.   
  


The boards in the floor upstairs creaked. Angel didn't like it. And he could hear the rats scurrying through the walls -- that problem could be rectified soon enough. Even the smell of the air bothered him. 

Angel was used to change. He had lived through two centuries of it. Moving from place to place, never quite settling down. Even in Sunnydale, he had never really felt quite like he had a home. 

But L.A. had been different. Angel had a place of his own, that was nothing new, but this time he had shared it. With friends. He should have known better than to get used to it. 

POOF. One of those friends was gone, and suddenly he didn't feel quite so secure. Just because it was a familiar feeling didn't mean that he liked it. Then Wesley had shown up, filling a part of the breach, and things had started to get better. But, as suddenly as ever before, the place he had come to call home had been destroyed. And he had nearly lost his two closest friends that same day. 

So in those moments, alone in this new and unfamiliar place, Angel couldn't help but turn his thoughts back to the first casualty of his not quite so successful life in Los Angeles. 

Doyle. In his many years of life, if you could call it that, he had suffered over the deaths of many. Most of those he had caused himself. He found it ironic that the one that had not been his fault was the one that now plagued him in his sleep. 

Angel was pacing the floor of the kitchen, had been for nearly two hours. He was used to guilt, but this was different. It was as though he could feel Death lurking about. 

Usually when Death was around, it was because he had been cheated. Through one freak accident or another, a life that should have been claimed was not. Or so the legends said, and most of the time the legends were right. But now, on this night -- the night before the full moon, Angel noted -- Death was humming a different tune. 

Shaking his head, Angel tried to clear his thoughts, something that he hadn't been able to do all day. It didn't help that he was upset and hungry. He sat down at the kitchen table and picked up the book that sat there- one of the few that had been recovered from the old building. Something fell out of it and fluttered to the floor. 

Angel leaned down, and at that moment his breath would have been taken away, had he had breath. It was a drawing he had done ... of Buffy. He picked it up and studied it. The resemblance was nearly perfect, not surprisingly. When he closed his eyes he could remember every eyelash, every dimple -- every tear. 

Angrily, Angel crumpled up the paper and threw it across the room. Like he needed anything else to remind him of his losses. He had drawn the picture shortly after Thanksgiving last year. Shortly after he had given up his humanity in hopes of being able to protect the one person who could make him feel alive. 

Then the anger faded away, and the pain was back. Doyle had made a great sacrifice as well. But it was a sacrifice he shouldn't have had to make. 

"Angel?" called Wesley from upstairs. 

Angel had been so preoccupied that he hadn't even heard the door open. He scolded himself. 

"Sorry I'm late," said the other man as he came down the stairs. "I woke the poor fellow, and he was none too happy, but I've got it." He held out a paper sack. 

The rat problem would be taken care of another night. 


	4. Dreams of the Past, Chapter Three

"Xander." 

He rolled over and groaned, not opening his eyes. 

"Xander! Wake up!" 

He once again groaned, but sat up and squinted his eyes open ever-so slightly. 

"Anya," said Xander, slightly annoyed. "I haven't even looked at a clock and I can tell it's way too early for any normal person to be up." 

"It's six a.m.," she said matter-of-factly. 

Xander laid back down and pulled a pillow over his head. 

Anya yanked the pillow off and continued to stand next to the bed, her hands on her hips. "Xander, I need to talk to you." 

"Now?!" 

"Yes. Now. I had a very bad dream and it's worrying me." 

"Anya," said Xander, giving up since he was already too awake to be able to go back to sleep. "Whatever it was, it was a dream." 

"But it didn't feel like a normal dream," she insisted. "It was very real." 

"Two years ago I had a very real dream that Angel and I opened a coffee shop, but that obviously hasn't happened. Buffy is the one that has prophetic dreams, not you." 

"But there was a big hole and it wanted to swallow me," Anya pouted. 

And, scarily enough, that reminded Xander very much of the dream he had had.   
  


"Good morning, sleepyhead," said Buffy as she wrapped Riley in a big hug. He seemed to stagger a bit at the weight of it, but recovered quickly. 

"Morning," he said, having been awakened by her knocking at his door only moments before. He smiled and kissed the top of her head. "So why am I up again?" 

Buffy rolled her eyes, but continued to smile. "You told me to wake you up, remember? You said you'd give me a good luck kiss before my exam." She batted her eyelashes innocently. 

"I did?" said Riley, feigning confusion. "Why would I say that?" 

She hit him on the shoulder and giggled. "I've got to get to class." 

"Oh, well, alright then." He bent down and kissed her softly. "Good luck." 

"Thanks," said Buffy, turning to go. "I will see you at my house this afternoon, right?" 

"Count on it," he said with a smile and then closed the door. The second he was out of her sight, his knees buckled under him and he sank to the floor. He touched his shoulder tentatively, and could tell there was already a bruise where Buffy had hit him, as well as around his ribs where she had hugged him. 

This is not good, Riley thought as he crawled back to his bed.   
  


The new office had two sets of living quarters, one above and one below. Angel had, of course, taken the windowless basement apartment. The upper floor was now occupied by Wesley. 

Though he could sense Angel and Cordelia's discomfort, Wesley was very happy with their new location. He did have to admit that it was probably because his last apartment had been abominable. 

He walked over to the safe that was in the corner, dropped in the payment from their latest client and closed the door tightly. The safe was fireproof, a security measure that Wesley had insisted upon after the last office had left little to be salvaged. 

"For the irreplaceable items," Wesley had said, pointing to the scrolls he had translated only hours before. Scrolls that said Angel might once again be human. 

Angel and Cordelia had both agreed that the safe was a good idea. 

Wesley heard the office door downstairs open and close, and he immediately tensed. It was too early for Cordelia to be in and Angel wasn't about to walk outside in broad daylight. He picked up the crossbow he had mounted on the wall next to his door and carefully crept downstairs, loading it as he went. 

When he rounded the corner into the office, he probably would have had a heart attack, had he not been prepared for far worse -- Cordelia was at work, at 7:00 a.m., on a Friday, and she wasn't wearing any makeup. 

"Good," said Cordelia, smiling at him. "You're up. Doughnut?" 

"Why, yes. Thank you," said Wesley, still confused but taking one. 

"What?" she asked, not seeming to understand his surprise. "OK," she relented. "I had this freaky dream last night and I-" 

"You had a vision?" interrupted Wesley as he jumped up to grab a pen and paper. "What did you see?" 

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Did I say vision? No. I said dream." 

He blinked. "You came in early because you had an odd dream?" He looked disappointed. 

"Not just any dream. Usually my dreams consist of some hot young doctor driving a Jaguar that buys me lots of things." 

"So he wasn't driving a Jaguar this time?" 

Cordelia looked frustrated. "Remember our line of work? End of the world, monsters, demons and such? It was one of those kind of dreams." 

That got Wesley's attention once again, and he was poised to write. "Well, what was it?" 

"Well," she started. "I don't remember a whole lot of it. 

Wesley groaned. 

"But," continued Cordelia, insistently. "I do remember that there was this huge black space, almost like a lake only it was in the air. I was standing in front of it, and I was scared because it felt like I would get pulled in." She paused, thinking. "Then there was this bright flash of light and-" 

"And what?" the other asked, waiting for some clue as to what the dream could be indicating. 

"Then that was the end of that dream. It did that weird shifty thing that dreams do." 

"So what was your other dream?" he prompted. "It could be important." 

"It's not," said Cordelia firmly. "It's private." She hoped he would take the hint. She didn't want to tell him that she had also dreamed that Doyle was still alive, and that she was kissing him. 


	5. Dreams of the Past, Chapter Four

Strangely enough, last night hadn't been nearly as bad as he had expected. Oz shook his head and began to unclamp the shackles that were firmly locked around his wrists and ankles. He had been in a very bad mood and decided not to take any chances with his emotions letting the wolf get the better of him. 

Usually after a night like that, Oz would have been exhausted, or at least a little groggy. But not this time. He had slept, a very deep sleep for that matter. He actually felt quite refreshed. 

But then there were the dreams. He had dreamt of Willow--that was no surprise. Oz had had a lot of dreams about her since leaving Sunnydale again. This one was different though. In this dream, Willow was a vampire, and he was killing her. 

After a Willow dream usually came one about Veruca or Tara. This time it was Veruca. Actually, it was a werewolf, but he knew that it was Veruca. And in that part, he was in werewolf form too. That disturbed him. Oz didn't like to think of himself that way. 

As unsettling as those two dreams had been, the first dream was the one that scared him the most. A black cloud lingered in the air before him, threatening to make Oz part of itself.   
  


Buffy snapped herself back into consciousness, realizing that she must have dozed off. She looked up at the clock. Only fifteen more minutes left on her history exam! Buffy started to panic as she lowered her pen to the paper. 

All the answers were filled in. Buffy blinked and pinched herself. She didn't remember finishing it. Heck, she barely remembered that President Kennedy had been assassinated in 1963. Or was it '53? 

I am really spacy today, she thought as she handed in her paper and left the room. I have got to get a grip. 

When she reached her dorm room, she threw her books on the bed and smiled. No more school for three whole months, she thought happily. Just plenty of quality time with my friends and ample time for- 

Something was eating at the back of her mind. Buffy tried hard to figure it out, but to no avail. 

Willow wasn't back from her final yet, probably wouldn't be for another hour or so. Most of their things were already packed away, but Buffy made the best of the extra time by finishing filling her boxes. Her side was much messier than her friend's anyway, and they wanted to be able to leave ASAP -- they had a party to prepare for. 

Buffy picked up a picture frame from her desk and put it in the box. It was a photo of her, Willow and Xander taken sometime in tenth grade. She smiled, thinking back to when it had been simple, just the three of them. Her gaze stopped on Xander, and her brow furrowed for a moment. 

What is this reminding me of? Frustrated, she closed the box. Her mind was not usually so fuzzy.   
  


"What are you doing here so early?" asked Angel, standing in the shadowy doorway, sunlight streaming through the windows within inches of his face. 

Cordelia huffed, but Wesley only have her a satisfactory smile. 

"Is it a crime for me to be early on occasion?" she asked smartly. She glared at Angel. "Besides, isn't it past your bedtime? What are you doing up?" 

Angel gave her a hint of a smile and then was serious again. "I remembered something that I need to do. After that I couldn't sleep." 

"Cordelia had a bad dream," said Wesley, clearly patronizing her. "She's determined that it's a bad omen or such." 

"I am not," insisted Cordelia. "It was just freaky. And I don't usually have freaky dreams." 

"Nightmares are a very common anomaly of the human existence. Thought not usually explainable, they aren't unheard of." 

She simply rolled her eyes and turned to her employer for defense. 

Angel only smirked. "I'll leave you two to your discussion. You can tell me about your dream when I get back," he said to Cordelia and then turned to go. 

Cordelia tried to throw a "so there" look at Wesley, but he didn't notice. 

"You have some business to attend to?" 

Turning back around, Angel held up a small gold mask. "Just paying my respects," he said simply, and then disappeared into the darkness of his apartment. 

Cordelia looked confused. "Paying his respects to the guy with the gross maggot face he told us about?" She wrinkled up her nose as she pictured Angel's description. 

"No," said Wesley softly. "To the Oracles."   
  


"I beseech access to the knowing ones," said Angel confidantly. With a flash of light, he was in. 

The room was darker than before, presumably because of the loss of it's occupants. Now not even the defiled bodies of the Oracles remained. 

Angel knelt down in front of where the pair normally would have stood. He place the mask on the floor in front of him and bowed his head. 

"Your gift," he said softly. "A piece of the one who brought about your destruction. I only hope that with this door closed, as you said before, another door will open." 

He stood up, straightened his coat and prepared to leave. The oracles had never really been comforting, but their absense was even less so. Angel liked to have someone to question, no matter how conceited or enigmatic the answer. 

He wanted to be able to ask them about the dream--his reminder to come here. His dream that the Oracles were still alive, and the darkness that had preceded it. 


	6. Dreams of the Past, Chapter Five

Joyce Summers was having a good afternoon. She was happy to have her daughter living safely under her roof again. She was also happy to be hosting the small party, surprisingly enough. But she would never admit to Buffy that she got a little lonely at the house sometimes. 

Buffy and Willow were eagerly decorating the living room with a bright mass of multi-colored streamers and balloons. They had dug them out of the hall closet, not even caring that there were a few pumpkins and Santas mixed in. The room exuded the vibrance they were feeling--SUMMER. 

In the kitchen, Joyce was chopping celery for a veggie tray. The counter was already filled with various other goodies--cookies, cake and even finger sandwiches. She had been keeping herself busy. 

She heard the phone ring. "Can you get that sweetie? My hands are kind of tied up." 

"Sure mom," called Buffy, running in to grab the cordless off the kitchen wall. "Hello?" 

"Hi Buffy," said the voice on the other end. 

"Riley, hi," she answered, smiling bigger than she was before. "When are you coming over? We're almost done getting everything together." 

"Very soon. Actually, I was wondering if I could bring someone." 

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Who?" 

"Graham," replied Riley. "He just seems like he's felt really out of place since the Initiative went down. I thought this might do some good." 

"Sure," she said, smiling at his thoughtfulness. "He's not all psycho or anything, is he?" she asked on second thought. 

Riley laughed. "No. Graham's tame. He just believed in following orders absolutely ." He paused. "I'm not sure if he does anymore though." 

"Yeah, bring him along. This is going to be all fun. No business tonight." Her voice oozed perkiness. 

"Good. I'll see you in a little bit then, OK?" 

"Sounds good," said Buffy. "We'll be waiting." 

"OK, bye." 

"Bye." She hung up the phone. Willow looked at her questioningly, wondering what they had been discussing. "Graham. Riley's going to bring him tonight. He thinks the whole downfall of the Initiative has left the guy all purposeless or something." She brightened. "Nothing a little fun won't cure." 

The doorbell rang. 

"Speaking of fun," said Willow, "Here comes some right now." She walked over and swung open the door to reveal Xander and Anya. 

"We come bearing wholesome goodness," he said with a large smile, holding a large box of Twinkies out in front of him. He glanced back at his girlfriend. 

Anya stepped into the house. "Hi," she said and then looked back at Xander. "Is there anything I can do to help?" 

Buffy looked surprised and raised an eyebrow in Xander's direction. He shrugged innocently and continued to smile. 

"Yeah," said Buffy, showing the girl into the kitchen. "Mom, this is Anya." 

Joyce smiled at the newcomer. "Right. Xander's girlfriend. It's nice to finally meet you." 

Anya smiled back, trying her hardest. "Can I help with something?" she repeated. 

Ms. Summers gladly relinquished her knife. "If you could finish with the vegetables, I'll tend to this last batch of cookies." 

Buffy supressed a giggle as Anya gazed unsurely at the carrots, sighed and started on them. She went back into the living room where Xander was helping Willow put up the last of the decorations. Her gaze fell on Xander, and she got that deja vu feeling again. 

"What's up Buff?" he asked, looking back at her. "You look thoughtful." 

Buffy shook her head. "Nothing. I've just been a little spacey today. Too many exams--it's all making my head spin." 

"But that's done now," said Willow with a smile. Even someone as book-happy as her was ready for a break. "This party should clear your head right up." 

"Still," said Buffy, not quite able to get rid of the feeling. "Something's nagging at me and I can't figure out what it is." She paused. "It's almost like a dream I can't quite remember or something." 

"Oo! Dream!" said Xander suddenly. "I almost forgot with all this party fun. Anya and I had the same dream last night." He seemed proud of himself, like he was finally getting a piece of the action. 

"How cute," said Willow, not quite smirking. 

"No, it was really freaky. Anya was pretty weirded out this morning." 

"Freaky!" blurted Buffy loudly. 

"Yes," said Xander slowly. "I said that." 

"No. I remember it now." She pointed at him. "It was you." 

"You had a dream about me?" said Xander, a little too excitedly. "Suddenly I'm much more interested in your dream." 

Buffy rolled her eyes. "No, Xander. It was freaky. You were-" She paused a minute, thinking. "You were a vampire." 

Willow shuddered. "Eww. Like me vampire. Ick." 

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. Except ..." 

"Except what?" asked Xander. 

"Well. I killed you. The vampire, that is." 

Xander blinked a few times, a bit weirded out by it, and then shrugged. "Well, so goes the job description, right?" 

Buffy still didn't look satisfied. She was still thoughtful. "There was something else, though. Before that." 

"Like what?" asked Willow anxiously. Buffy's dreams didn't have a good track record of being just dreams, and when it involved Xander being a vampire .... 

"It's fuzzy," replied Buffy, "But I want to say it was a big black cloud, only it was all shimmery. Weird, huh?" This time, she shrugged. 

But somehow Xander no longer thought it was a shrugging matter. His face got white. "A big black cloud that was going to swallow you, and then a bright flash of light," he mumbled softly. 

"Yeah," said Buffy, brightening. "That was it." Then she noticed his expression. "How did you know?" 

Xander actually looked more scared now than proud of his participation in the dream. "Because that's the same dream Anya and I had." 


	7. Dreams of the Past, Chapter Six

By the time Angel returned to the office, Cordelia was more herself. She kept extra "supplies" in a box under her desk, and she was now fully made up and stylishly dressed. She was sitting with her feet propped up on the desk, painting her nails. 

"So how'd it go?" she asked with a smile, finishing the last nail with an expert touch. 

"Fine," replied Angel gruffly from the doorway. 

Cordelia looked at him, examining his face. "It doesn't sound fine," she countered. She got up and closed all the curtains, plunging the room into not-quite-total darkness. 

Angel flipped the light switch by the door and came into the room. "I've got a lot on my mind." 

She didn't know what to say. She had a lot on her mind too, not all of which she was willing to share at the moment. 

"Tell me about your dream," Angel said, sitting on the edge of the table that was against the wall. 

She repeated the particulars -- what she could remember of them, at least -- to him. He listened silently, and didn't say anything for a few minutes after she had finished. 

"What did you dream about after that?" he asked when he was done thinking. 

Cordelia raised her eyebrows. "Did Wesley tell you to pry?" she asked suspiciously. "Cause I already told him, it's private." 

"Cordelia," said Angel firmly. "It's important." 

She didn't bend, only stared back at him. 

He sighed. "I had the same dream." 

Cordelia looked shocked. "So it does mean something? I was starting to go with Wesley's random nightmare theory." 

"I don't know," said Angel. "Probably, but I don't know what yet." He paused. "After that I dreamt that the Oracles were back. I can't seem to shake the feeling that the two were connected. And you did dream something afterward, didn't you?" 

She swallowed nervously and nodded. "Doyle," she said so softly that it was nearly a whisper. "He was alive." 

Angel nodded understandingly. 

"So is it research time?" Cordelia asked, trying to get back her previous state of mind. "Cause if it is, I'm going out for sandwiches first. I never got around to eating-" 

Her sentence was broken off by the pain surging through her head. She slumped over, bringing her hands up protectively. Angel rushed to her side with a glass of water. 

"What is the deal with people in Sunnydale?!" Cordelia yelled the second she had her senses back. 

"What did you see?" asked Angel anxiously. 

"My ex and your ex in a very familiar position," she said, more than a touch of bitterness in her voice. 

He only looked back at her, confused. 

She rolled her eyes. "Senior year, when Spike kidnapped Willow and Xander?" 

Angel nodded, remembering Spike's all-too-true diatribe on his and Buffy's relationship. 

"Then Oz and I walked in on the two of them smooching and I fell through the stair and got impaled." Cordelia frowned at the memory. 

"I remember," said Angel soothingly. "What about it?" 

"I just saw Buffy and Xander in a very similar situation, her leaning over him and all! and to top it all off ...." 

"What?" 

"Two things," said Cordelia. "That big black cloud? It was there too. And I saw who kidnapped them." She eyed Angel cautiously, not wanting to say it. 

"Spike?" Angel asked. 

She shook her head. "No. Drusilla." 

Angel couldn't hide the shock on his face quite as well as he wanted to, but he had soon resumed his normal calm, composed look. 

"Looks like we're going to Sunnydale."   
  


"All three of you had the same dream?" said Giles as he walked in. "Yes, that certainly is bizarre." They had bombarded him the second he had arrived. He sat down on the couch. 

"What could it be, Giles?" Buffy could remember her dream clearly now. "Big freaky black cloud. Not exactly a happy omen." 

"No, umm, I agree," said Giles. "But we can't jump to any conclusions yet." 

"Research," said Willow with a sigh. She sank onto the couch 

Giles gazed around the brightly-colored room. "No. You all need and deserve a break. I'll work on the research, and you all will have a nice party." He started to stand up. 

"No," said Buffy, putting a slayer-powered firm hand on his shoulder. "You deserve a break as much as the rest of us. First we party, then we'll all research later." 

He looked up at his slayer and saw that there would be no arguing with her. "Very well," Giles said. He held out the box that he had brought. "Fruit tarts. My grandmother's recipe." 

"Yum!" said Xander, reaching for the box. 

"Goody," Willow said. "No business until later." 

"Right," said Buffy, smiling brightly. 

The doorbell rang again, announcing an addition to their party. Buffy and Willow looked at each other, silently wondering whose significant other would be waiting outside. Willow looked at her watch. 

"It's Riley," she said. "Tara's exam doesn't get out for another half hour." 

Buffy opened the door. Riley and Graham were waiting patiently on the doorstep. 

"Hey," said Riley, kissing her lightly. 

"Hey Buffy," echoed Graham, smiling a little shyly. 

She ushered them in the door and made quick introductions since a few people didn't know Graham. Most everyone was sitting in the living room now, so Buffy dragged Riley into the empty dining room. 

"Are you OK?" she asked him seriously. "You seem a little groggy today." 

He was surprised that she had already noticed. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just didn't sleep very well last night." 

"Bad dreams?" she pressed, concern reaching a different level. 

"How'd you guess? I think it's leftover stress from the whole Adam thing." 

"You dreamt about Adam?" Buffy said, seeming a little disappointed. "No big black cloud?" 

Riley raised an eyebrow. "Black cloud? No, just Adam and lots of fighting. Why?" 

Buffy waved her hand. "Nothing to worry about right now." She handed him some food from the counter in the kitchen. "Let's get all this laid out." 

They started arranging all the food, along with plates and napkins and such, on the dining room table. Buffy was admiring her mother's fancy handiwork. 

"You used your good silver platters?" she called to her mom. "These things are practically sacred." 

Joyce came to the doorway and smiled. "Well, we very rarely have company enough to use them, so I figured 'why not?'." 

Buffy smiled back appreciatively. She was really looking forward to the evening off. Tara was the only person left to show and then the party would begin. 


	8. Dreams of the Past, Chapter Seven

Wesley had been to the corner grocery store picking up some supplies for the office. His arms heavy with bags, he looked curiously at the black convertible parked in front of the building. Then he noticed that the drapes of the front office were drawn. 

"What's going on?" he asked, walking in the front door and dropping the sacks on the floor. 

"Road trip," said Cordelia pleasantly as she added more bags to the stack next to the door. 

Wesley, still confused, asked, "To where?" 

"Sunnydale," answered Angel, coming into the room with a large duffle bag. The tell-tale bulges on the side said that it carried weapons. 

"My dream wasn't just a dream," said Cordelia mockingly. 

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" 

"And, well, I had a vision too," she added as if it weren't nearly as important. 

"Buffy?" he asked, directing the question at Angel. 

Angel nodded. "She could be in trouble," he said. "But this dream--I had a very similar one. I think there's something bigger going on than just Buffy being kidnapped." 

"So we're all going to Sunnydale?" asked Wesley, attempting to clarify. 

Again, Angel nodded. "As soon as the sun sets. Pack some clothes. Plan on being there for at least the weekend." 

Wesley went up to his apartment. Angel walked over to Cordelia's desk and picked up the phone. 

"Are you going to tell her why we're coming?" she asked. 

"Definitely," he replied, dialing Buffy's home number. He still knew it by heart. "At least then she can be on guard." He frowned. "The line's busy." 

"Try Giles," suggested Cordelia, but Angel was already dialing the number. 

"No answer," he said after a minute. He looked at the dwindling light at the edges of the windows. It would be time to go soon. "We'll try again on the way."   
  


The party was in full swing. Xander and Anya had turned the living room floor into their own makeshift dance floor. Graham seemed to be having a good time and was deep in conversation with Willow and Tara. Buffy was standing against the wall, watching everyone contentedly. 

"Penny?" said Xander, coming up after his last dance. 

Buffy looked at him and then in the direction Anya had gone. 

"I have time," he said. "Anya went to get food. What's up?" 

She shrugged. "It's just really nice to see everyone having a good time. These times seem fewer and far between these days." 

Xander nodded but gave her a reassuring look. "Don't let it get you down. We've got plenty more good days ahead of us." 

Buffy smiled, but it immediately turned into a frown. Anya was rushing up to Xander, and she did not look happy. 

"I have to talk to you," Anya said to him. 

"I'm kind of in the middle of a conversation here," he said, slightly annoyed. 

"Now," she said firmly. 

Xander looked at Buffy apologetically, apparently giving in to the fact that Anya wouldn't stop until she had her way. 

"It's cool," said Buffy. "We can resume this later." 

Anya pulled Xander out the front door onto the steps. The sun was starting to sink below the horizon, but it wasn't quite dark yet. She started to speak, keeping her voice low. 

"Tara's a demon." 

"What!" Xander exclaimed, louder than he had meant to. "What are you talking about?" 

"Well, she's half demon," she amended. She didn't elaborate. 

"Explain." 

"I went to get some food and then she came in too," she started. "Then I reached down to get some celery and saw her reflection on the platter. Clearly not human." 

Xander rolled his eyes. "Are you sure you didn't slip something into your punch? I've seen her reflection and there's no difference." 

"In a regular mirror, maybe," said Anya. "But those platters are silver -- I heard Buffy say so. You know silver can have some unusual properties as far as monsters and demons are concerned." 

He could see her reasoning, but hate to admit that he was starting to believe that his best friend's girlfriend could be a demon. 

"What do you want me to do about it?" he asked finally. 

"Talk to Willow," she said. "I think I recognize the species, and if I'm right then we've got trouble." 

"Why don't we just talk to Giles?" Xander really didn't want to think about how Willow would react if he approached her with this. 

Anya shook her head. "We don't want Tara to know anything's up. It could be very dangerous to our health." 

"OK, fine," said Xander with a sigh. "I'll try to find a good time to nonchalantly pull Willow aside and talk to her, OK?" 

She seemed fairly satisfied with that and they rejoined the rest of the group. Xander was glad, because he felt much safer inside Buffy's house than outside under the now-dark sky. 


	9. Dreams of the Past, Chapter Eight

Angel decided to let Wesley drive so he could get some sleep. He had only managed to sleep long enough that day to dream, and he had been moving ever since. Whatever was coming, Angel knew he'd need his strength. 

They had reached the outskirts of L.A., but Angel hadn't managed to doze yet. He had way too much to think about to sleep. When he noticed someone walking beside the highway, he was glad he hadn't fallen asleep yet. 

"Pull over," Angel said to Wesley. 

Wesley gave him a strange look but then complied. They reached the shoulder just as the walker made it to that point. 

"Gunn!" Angel called out. The young man approached the car. 

"Angel," he said, apparently a little surprised. "Taking a trip? I didn't think you got out much." 

"It's not really a social call," the other replied. 

"I should have known," said Gunn. "I wish I could say mine was." 

"What are you up to?" 

"Word just got to me that my cousin died a few weeks back," he said. "I thought I'd pay my respects to my aunt and uncle." 

"I'm sorry," said Angel. 

"Thanks. It's been a while since I've seen him, but he was a good guy." 

"Is it close enough for you to walk?" Angel asked. 

Gunn shrugged. "Not really. It's a little ways from here. I figure I'll just hitchhike once I get tired." 

"Where are you going?" 

"Sunnydale." 

Angel seemed a little thrown by his answer, but resolved that he shouldn't be surprised with the way things were going. 

"Hop in," he said. "We're going your way." 

"That's alright. I don't want to cause you any headache if you're on a mission." 

"What he means is that we're going to Sunnydale too," Cordelia jumped in. She stuck out her hand. "Cordelia Chase -- Angel's personal assistant." 

Angel couldn't help but smile at Cordelia's omission of the title "secretary". 

"Charles Gunn," replied the other, shaking her hand. "Angel's covert agent," he added with a grin in Angel's direction. 

Cordelia threw Angel a confused look. 

"Gunn's helped me out a few times," said Angel simply. "The least I can do is give him a ride," he said, looking back at Gunn. 

"OK, you've got me convinced," said Gunn, throwing his bag in the back seat. "Let's get out of here."   
  


Spike just happened to be strolling down Rodello Dr. when he noticed the large number of lights on at the Slayer's house. He didn't have anything in particular to do -- can't even bloody kill something, he thought bitterly -- so he decided to check it out. 

Getting closer to the house, Spike saw Buffy and her friends all gathered in the house, seeming to have a good time. He strolled calmly through the door. 

"What? You're having a party and you didn't even invite your old buddy Spike?" he said with a giant smile on his face. He loved to provoke Buffy. 

Graham staggered and pointed at Spike, but couldn't seem to get a word out of his mouth. He nudged Riley, motioning toward the vampire. 

"What's his deal?" said Spike, always speaking to Buffy. He laughed shortly and sauntered into the kitchen. 

"What are you doing here, Spike?" Buffy asked, very little patience in her voice. 

By this time Spike was already rummaging through the refrigerator. He ignored her question but called out to her a few seconds later. 

"Don't you keep any of the good stuff around here? I mean, I know it's been a while, but I was sure you'd have some leftover from the good ole Angel days." 

He stuck his head back into the living room to see Buffy standing with her arms crossed. She was trying to look stern and unshaken, but Spike noticed her shoot a paranoid glance in Riley's direction. The latter wasn't looking too happy. 

"Spike-" started Buffy. She was going to say that the fact that he was invited into her house didn't mean that he was welcome, but her mom beat her. 

"Would you like some cookies?" Joyce asked, hopping up to be the dutiful hostess. She didn't notice the dispairing look that her daughter gave her. 

"I would love some," he said, following Joyce into the dining room. He couldn't resist throwing a grin in Buffy's direction first. 

Graham looked at her with palpable shock. Buffy just shook her head, defeated. "It's a long story." 

The others in the room didn't seem too surprised by Spike's entrance. Most of them looked in his direction with indifference. 

"Nothing like a little Spike to put things back into perspective," said Xander sarcastically. 

"But we can still party, right?" said Willow softly. 

"Absolutely," answered her best friend. "Nothing is stopping this party animal!" He started to pull Anya back out into the middle of the floor to dance, but she only glared at him. 

"Xander," she said impatiently. 

"Nothing," he emphasized, a shockingly serious look on his face, "Is stopping the party." 

She huffed a little, but allowed herself to be pulled into Xander's arms. Buffy raised an eyebrow in his direction, looking at Willow, who just shrugged. Anya's odd behavior never seemed to end. 


	10. Dreams of the Past, Chapter Nine

Angel cursed and threw the phone down. Buffy's line was still busy. He was starting to worry that Cordelia's vision hadn't given them enough warning. 

"Still no luck?" asked Gunn from the backseat. He wasn't really looking for an answer. 

"Don't worry," said Wesley. "Buffy can take care of herself for now. You need to sleep--we'll be there in two hours." 

Angel knew he was right, but couldn't seem to clear his mind enough to sleep. He looked into the back where Cordelia was dozing peacefully. It made him sleepy just looking at her. 

"I'll try," he said finally. "Keep trying to call, alright?" He held the phone out to Wesley. 

"I'll take care of it," said Gunn, reaching out for the phone. Angel willingly gave it to him. 

After what seemed like hours--though in actuality it was probably only ten minutes--Angel managed to fall asleep. The dreams started again almost immediately. 

It may have been that his mind was more alert to it, but the dreams seemed clearer this time. Angel was subconsciously studying every detail, looking for something to explain it. 

First there was the black cloud. It didn't really look like a cloud--it was more like a pool of water shimmering in the air. There was a great power surrounding it, that was undoubtable. And as before, there was a flash of light and it was gone. 

Then Angel was standing in front of the Oracles. They seemed to be beckoning him closer, as if they had something important to tell him. It felt so real.   


Cordelia was dreaming. Like the last time, she was with Doyle. But there was something more to it. He seemed to want to tell her something, but in the dream he had no voice. He made motions with his hands, but she didn't understand. Finally, he gave her a reassuring smile that seemed to say "I'll show you," and faded from view. 

She snapped awake. At first she was extremely disoriented. The dream had been so life-like that it took her a minute to remember where she was. 

Something was out of place. Sitting in her lap was the book that had come from Doyle's apartment. Cordelia had brought it, hoping to finally be able to read it, but it had been in her purse. Now it lay open across her legs. She picked it up and began to read. 

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep 

Do not stand at my grave and weep,   
I am not there ... I do not sleep.   
I am the thousand winds that blow ....   
I am the diamond glints on snow ....   
I am the sunlight on ripened grain ....   
I am the gentle autumn rain.   
When you waken in the morning's hush,   
I am the swift uplifting rush   
Of gentle birds in circling flight ....   
I am the soft star that shines at night.   
Do not stand at my grave and cry--   
I am not there ... I did not die. 

Cordelia gasped, and Angel turned around and looked at her. He had obviously just woken up himself. 

"The dreams are getting clearer," he said matter-of-factly. "Whatever it is, it's close." 

"I- I dreamt-" she stuttered, unable to believe what was going on in her head. "He was trying to tell me-" Finally she stopped and handed Angel the book. 

He read silently for a moment. After finishing, he handed the book back to Cordelia, still without a word. It seemed as if the dead -- but it wasn't possible. He didn't dare hope, and he certainly couldn't let Cordelia. 

"This is getting stranger," he said finally. "We've got to hurry." 

Wesley seemed to feel the urgence in Angel's voice, and he pushed his foot farther down on the accelerator.   



	11. Dreams of the Past, Chapter Ten

"Oh no!" Joyce heard Buffy exclaim in the kitchen. 

"What is it?" she asked, coming into the room to see her daughter standing in front of the refrigerator. 

"I forgot to buy ice cream!" said Buffy frantically. "I can't believe after all this planning I forgot the ice cream!" 

Joyce smiled, slightly amused at Buffy's making it seem to be a matter of dire consequence. If that was the worst thing that ever happened in their lives, they'd both be a lot happier. 

"I'll go get some," she said. "Cookies and cream, mint chocolate chip or rocky road?" 

"You can't go now," said Buffy, who couldn't help but smile at her mother. "It's dark outside." 

"I'll accompany her, if that will make you feel better," said Giles, having overheard the exchange. "I should like some ice cream myself." 

"See?" said Joyce. "It's fine. We'll be back in no time." 

Buffy couldn't think of a good argument against their going, so she just nodded her agreement. 

"Oh, and mom?" she said as the two were walking out the door. 

"Yes?" 

"Rocky Road." 

"And Moose Tracks!" called Xander. 

Joyce only laughed and left. 

Buffy watched them out the window and groaned. "Ugh. I should have warned mom about the Gilesmobile." 

Willow rolled her eyes slightly. "The party will be over before they're back with the ice cream." 

"The party's already over," commented Spike, rising from his seat on the couch. "You people are bloody boring. No blood, no liquor, no good music. I'm outta here." He sauntered over to the door. "Catch your act later, Slayer." 

They didn't make any attempt to stop him, only held their breath and hoped that he wouldn't change his mind. 

"Hey, we have cake and cookies!" said Xander brightly once the vampire was a safe distance from the house. "Who's up for it?" 

"I think I'll wait for the ice cream," said Buffy. 

Everyone else was either too full or waiting as well. Willow noticed that Xander seemed a bit disappointed and decided to volunteer. 

"I could use some extra sugar," she said. She followed him into the dining room, leaving the others behind in the living room. 

Xander picked up the platter of cookies and offered her some. He seemed glad to have this time alone with her. He furrowed his brow. 

"Something on your mind?" asked Willow, taking a bite of her cookie. 

He didn't say anything for a minute, only chewed his cookie pensively. Finally he took a deep breath and spoke. 

"Anya wanted me to talk to you." 

"About what?" she asked, a bit confused. 

"She thinks that-" He stopped and cleared his throat. "She says that Tara is half demon." 

The confusion on Willow's face turned to pure anger. 

"What!?" 

"I know, I know," said Xander, hoping to calm her before things got out of hand. "It sounds crazy." 

"You're dad-gum right it's crazy!" She was yelling in a whisper. 

"Wait." This wasn't going as well as he had planned. "She made a fairly convincing argument." 

Now Willow was floored. She was angry that Xander even delivered such a message, but that he would dare to believe it -- that was something else entirely. 

"I can't believe you!" she yelled, her voice raising higher than it should have. "Just because you're jealous doesn't give you any right to go making such ludicrous accusations." 

"But aren't you even going to hear me out?" Xander asked timidly. Things weren't looking good for him. 

"Hear you-- You have some nerve! You're the demon magnet, remember? Not me." 

Xander looked seriously hurt at the comment. His face hardened. 

"Fine," he said roughly. "But if something happens, don't say I didn't warn you." 

He started back to the living room and Willow followed, reaching the room just after him. She looked around. 

"Where's Tara?" 

"She ran upstairs a minute ago," replied Buffy. "Why? What's up?" She threw a concerned glance between her two best friends. Both of their faces were like granite. 

"She probably overheard," Willow said acidly, directing the comment at Xander. "I'd better tend to damage control." She dashed up the stairs. 

Buffy looked at Xander. 

"You don't want to know," he said. 

"Tara's a demon," said Anya. 

Buffy raised an eyebrow and Xander shrugged. 

"Half demon anyway," continued Anya, despite the odd looks she was receiving from the others. "And if I'm right she's the half-Bhijah." 

"That half what?" asked Buffy, not believing a word of it. 

Anya didn't get the chance to answer because of the scream that came from upstairs. Willow's scream.   
  


"Are we there yet?" asked Cordelia impatiently. 

Wesley shot a glance at her as if to say, "I'm going as fast as I can." 

"Sorry," she said. "I'm just a little bit anxious." There was more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice. 

"That's the city limits up there," said Angel soothingly, pointing to a spot in the road not far away. 

Cordelia squinted in the darkness. "Are you sure? I don't see the sign." 

"There isn't a sign," Angel said. "Hasn't been for a while." 

"Shows you how often I visit home." 

"Still a busy signal," Gunn interjected. 

"I knew teenage girls were prone to stay on the phone for long periods of time," said Wesley, "But I'd say this is a bit much." 

Angel shook his head. "Buffy wouldn't be on the phone this long. All her friends live minutes away. Besides, she's probably patrolling." 

"Well, Mrs. Summers could-" Cordelia started. 

"Joyce wouldn't stay on the phone with Buffy not home," said Angel. "We have to assume that something's wrong." 

"So just who is this chic that you're trying to reach?" asked Gunn, feeling a bit out of the loop. 

"The Slayer," said Cordelia. "Ever heard of her?" 

"Isn't that a heavy metal band?" he responded. "Sorry. That was a joke," Gunn added when she gave him a blank look. 

"Well, suffice it to say she kills vampires and demons, saves the world, that kind of stuff. For a living. It's a fate thing." 

Gunn raised an eyebrow and gave Angel a confused look. "Then shouldn't she be able to take care of herself?" 

"Oh yeah," added Cordelia. "And she's Angel's ex-girlfriend." 

Angel looked back at her. 

"What?" she said obliviously. 

"Angel?" Wesley said to draw his attention. 

Angel turned back and looked at him. "Yeah?" 

"Isn't that Mrs. Summers?" Wesley pointed toward the parking lot of the minimart they were passing." 

Angel looked just as the woman stepped up to reveal a man next to her. "And Giles," he said. "Pull over." 


	12. Dreams of the Past, Chapter Eleven

Buffy was the first up the stairs. Xander was barely half a step behind her. The door to Buffy's bedroom was closed, and when she tried to open it, it didn't budge. 

"There's something in front of the door!" said Buffy, preparing to kick it in. 

"No!" said Xander, putting an arm in front of her. "Wait. Shh." He put an ear to the door. 

By that time everyone had congregated in the upstairs hallway, and they all quieted. A groan came clearly from the other side of the door. 

"I think Willow's in front of the door," Xander said. He twisted the handle and leaned against the door. It opened enough for them to get in. 

Willow was crumpled in a pile in front of the door. She seemed to be regaining consciousness. There was blood on her forehead. 

Xander knelt by her side without a second's hesitation. "Oh god, Will," he said softly, cradling her head. "I didn't mean it." 

"Are you OK, Will?" asked Buffy, kneeling next to Xander. "What happened? Where's Tara?" 

"Xander?" Willow mumbled, her eyes starting to flutter open. 

"I'm right here," he replied. "What happened?' 

Willow slowly sat up, still being held in Xander's arms. Her hand went up to her head and she winced. Then, as if everything were suddenly coming back to her, tears started to flow down her face. 

"She- she was-" she started to choke on her words and stopped. 

"It's OK, Will," said Buffy, reaching out for her hand. "Take it slow." 

"I'll go get some water," said Riley. Buffy gave him an appreciative smile. 

Willow took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down, leaning on Xander for support. He clasped her hand tightly. Riley came back with a cup of water and she sipped it tentatively. 

"When I came up here," Willow started finally, "Tara was looking through my box of spell books." She pointed to an open box in the corner near the window. 

"I asked her if she was OK because I was afraid she had overheard mine and Xander's conversation and was upset," she continued, glancing up at Xander, grateful for his presence even after their argument. 

Buffy nodded slightly to signify that she was still listening, and her friend kept going. 

"She didn't say anything for a few seconds, but when I took a few steps toward her, she snapped her head around toward me and growled." Willow paused and sniffed, trying to hold back the tears. "It didn't sound like her at all. 

"Her eyes had this wild look to them," she said. "But then suddenly she was back to herself and saying 'Willow, stay away from me, please!'. She was begging me to leave her alone and she was crying." 

Willow couldn't start the next part of her narrative without crying again, but she managed to get the words out through her tears. 

"I kept walking toward her, asking her what was wrong, and that's when-" she paused and took a breath. "When she changed." 

"Changed?" asked Buffy. "What do you mean?" 

"Her face changed," said Willow. "It was horrible. She- it- had reddish skin and three large horns growing out of its head. And there was a weird symbol on its forehead, kind of like an 'X' with a star above it." 

No one noticed Anya slipping out of the room. 

"And she- this thing," Buffy changed for Willow's benefit. "It attacked you?" 

The other girl nodded, but then put a hand to her head and looked like she was going to pass out again. 

"We need to get you to a hospital," said Buffy. 

"No," insisted Willow. "I'll be OK. I just need to lie down for a while." 

Buffy looked her best friend in the eye, getting ready to protest, but Willow's resolve face got the better of her. 

"Graham and I will take her home," Riley said to Buffy. "You need to be here to talk to Giles about this." 

"OK," Buffy answered slowly. She helped Xander get Willow to her feet. "We'll get everything taken care of." 

Riley and Graham had taken over supporting the injured girl when she turned back toward Buffy. 

"Don't hurt her," she said softly. "That thing, whatever it is, it's not her." 

"I won't. I promise," Buffy said. "We'll figure out what's going on." 

After they left, Buffy surveyed the box that Tara had been digging through. It was a mess. After a few minutes, she gave up trying to draw any conclusions from it. 

"Nothing, I take it," said Xander, hovering over her shoulder. 

"Nada," said Buffy. "Though I'm not surprised -- I don't know what to look for." She sighed. "I don't even know where to start. What was it that Anya said Tara was?" 

Xander didn't answer, only glanced around the room. "Speaking of Anya -- where is she?" 

They went back downstairs and there was still no sign of her. 

"That's strange," said Buffy. "Do you think she went home?" 

"No. She would have said something to me." He stopped, a thought coming to mind. "Oh man. I really hope she didn't go and do something stupid!" 

"Like what?" asked Buffy, resisting the temptation to make a crack at Anya's idiosyncrasies. 

"Like going after Tara on her own," said Xander grimly. "She was very insistent that I tell Willow about Tara. And we see where that got us," he added to himself. "Anya said this demon is dangerous." 

Buffy sighed loudly and went into the kitchen. She picked up a pad of paper and started to write. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Leaving a note for mom and Giles," she said. "We've got to find Anya. This isn't something she can handle alone." 

"You read my mind," said Xander. 

Buffy stopped writing and put the end of the pen in her mouth. "What was that word Anya used?!" 

Xander looked thoughtful for a moment. "Bi ..." he mumbled, thinking to himself. 

"Bisha!" exclaimed Buffy. "Or something like that. That'll have to do for now." She finished writing out the note and left it in clear view on the counter. "Let's go." 

They went out the front door. Buffy had turned around to lock it when she heard a moan from behind her. She turned back around in time to see Xander slump to the ground, and to see who had hit him. 

"Hello Slayer," said Drusilla.   



	13. Dreams of the Past, Chapter Twelve

"Angel," said Giles with more than a little surprise. 

"Giles! Mrs. Summers! Hi!" Cordelia, despite all her apparent protests, was glad to see familiar faces. She had pretended to not really want to be a part of the Scooby Gang, but sometimes she actually missed it. 

"Hello Cordelia," said Giles absent-mindedly. He was still a little baffled by their sudden appearance. Even more so in seeing Wesley with them. 

"This isn't just a visit to family and old friends, is it?" The watcher asked, seeing the continuously serious look on Angel's face. 

"Unfortunately, no." Angel glanced over at Mrs. Summers. "We have reason to believe that Buffy may be in trouble." 

"Trouble?" Joyce said, his concern not misplaced. "What do you mean?" 

"Cordelia had a vision," Angel explained. 

"I saw Buffy and Xander kidnapped by Drusilla," added Cordelia. 

Giles looked confused. "You had a vision?" He looked at Angel. "But I thought-" 

"It's a long story," said the vampire. "One that I will tell, but not right now. There's something else." 

Giles and Joyce both looked at him expectantly. 

"Cordelia and I have had the same dreams," Angel continued. "And part of the dream showed up in the vision." 

Surprise spread across Giles's face, but only for a second. "Black cloud, flash of light?" he asked simply. 

"I take it you know something about this already? We've been trying to call all evening, but the line's busy." 

"We've been having a party," said Joyce, wanting to say something. "The phone must have gotten knocked off the hook." 

Angel nodded to her, indicating that he had heard her, but then he looked back at Giles. The latter had removed his glasses and was massaging his temples. 

"I don't know much," said Giles finally. "But we need to get back and look for answers because Buffy, Xander and Anya all had the same dream." 

"We'll follow you," said Angel, starting back to his car. Time was of the essence. 

Cordelia gawked, unbelieving. "Anya's a part of the Scooby Gang?!"   
  


When Buffy woke up, she was in the basement of an abandoned building. Her head was throbbing, and it took a few seconds for her to be able to focus her eyes. Slowly, she stood up and tried to get her bearings. 

Drusilla. The last thing she remembered was the insane vampire hypnotizing her long enough to put a cloth over her mouth--a cloth soaked in something meant to knock her out. 

But she wasn't dead, and that surprised her. But there was something else ... 

Xander! Buffy frantically scanned the room for him and saw his body piled in a corner. She ran to him. 

"Xander!" she called as she reached out for a pulse. Thankfully, she found one easily, but he was still unconscious. Buffy lifted him up and laid him carefully onto a table in the middle of the room. 

Not only was Buffy extremely surprised that Spike's ex was back in town, she also didn't have a clue what Drusilla could possibly hope to accomplish. Buffy scolded herself for not being alert enough. She and Xander could both have easily been killed. But they weren't. That meant that the vampire had something else in mind, but what? 

About ten minutes after Buffy had woken up, she got an answer to her questions. Drusilla walked calmly in through the door at the top of the stairs. The slayer started to come forward, but her captor held up a hand, and something in her manner made Buffy stop. 

"Naughty, naughty Slayer," Drusilla said, wagging her finger at Buffy. A group of about a dozen vampires streamed through the door behind her and crowded the steps below her. "You come for me and my friends kill your friend," she added simply, indicating the still-unconscious Xander. 

"What do you want?" asked Buffy angrily. She didn't like being unable to fight, but there was no way she was sacrificing Xander for a chance to kill a half-wit vampire. 

"Only what you stole from me," replied Drusilla. 

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "And that would be ..." 

"Angel." 

After several seconds of staring, Buffy burst out laughing. She could hardly contain herself. "What does he have to do with me? In case you haven't heard, we aren't exactly an item anymore." 

Drusilla might have been surprised to learn this, but it didn't shake her determination. "He'll come." With that, she turned and left the room, her lackeys following. 

Buffy waited until she was gone and then frowned. Drusilla didn't scare her much, except where Xander was currently concerned. What did scare her was that, no matter how crazy, Drusilla was probably right.   
  


By the time they reached Buffy's house, it was after eleven. They were surprised to find the house empty. 

"There's a note for you," said Joyce, coming out of the kitchen and handing Giles a piece of paper. 

He took it from her and skimmed over it, a worried look in his eyes. Reaching the end after a second perusal, he read it out loud: 

Giles- 

I'm short on time, so I'll make this to the point. Tara is a demon, or half-demon or possessed by a demon or something. She attacked Willow (who is OK and resting at home), which you know is totally uncharacteristic, and ran off before we could do anything. Anya seems to know what it is, but she didn't say much. She did mention something about a demon called "bye-shah" or something like that. No, wait! She said THE bye-shah, like it was important. Anyway, Anya ran off shortly after we found Willow hurt, and Xander's afraid she went after Tara for some dumb reason. X and I have gone after Anya. We'll swing by your place ASAP and see if you've found anything out. 

B-- 

PS- Willow's description--reddish skin, 3 horns and a symbol like an 'X' with a star above it 

The message didn't really mean that much to anyone but Joyce and Giles, as the others didn't know Tara, but those two were quite disturbed by it. 

"Does that name ring a bell?" Angel asked as he watched Giles read the note again. 

"I'm afraid not," replied the watcher. "Though it probably should." 

"It does sound vaguely familiar," said Wesley, brow furrowed. "But I don't think the name's exactly right." He looked at Giles. 

"We had better go to my house," he replied. "Do you think you can hunt down the reference you're thinking of?" 

Wesley nodded. 

"I'll go try and find Buffy and Xander," said Angel. "If Cordelia's vision was accurate-" 

"Which they always are," she interjected. 

"Then they might need my help," he finished. 

"I'll come with you," said Gunn. "It's too late to go to Aunt Holly's anyway." 

Cordelia looked at the group, trying to figure out where her place should be. "Umm, the note said Willow's at home, right? Maybe I could go check on her. If she's feeling OK, she'd be a good research helper." 

"Good idea," said Giles with a nod. He turned to Mrs. Summers. "You'd better stay here in case any of them come here. You can tell them how to find us." 

"That's what I do best," said Joyce with a sincere smiling. "That and cleaning," she added with a grim face, surveying the mess from the party. 

"I'll try and keep you updated," Giles said as he and the rest of the group filed out the door. 

Angel was the last one out, and everyone else was halfway to the cars when he stopped. Something in the air caught his attention. 

"What is it?" Cordelia asked, noticing her employer's worried face. At her question, the others stopped and looked back as well. 

Angel stooped and surveyed the steps leading up to the door. He reached his hand down and brushed the concrete with it. Then he brought his finger up to his nose and smelled it. 

"Blood."   



	14. Dreams of the Past, Chapter Thirteen

The street seemed to be covered in even more shadows than he remembered. Oz just couldn't shake the ominous feeling that surrounded him. Maybe it's just leftover bad vibes, he thought, glancing at the ruins of Sunnydale High School as he passed. Either that or his strange dream was starting to work its creepiness in the real world. 

The dream he had had the night before, complete with vamp Willow and werewolf Veruca, had repeated itself in the nap that he had taken that afternoon. The difference was that the black cloud part felt a lot stronger, and it was all clearer. Oz had decided this was a problem for Giles. 

It hadn't been long since his last trip to Sunnydale. Some parts of him said it had nonetheless been too long, while the rest of him screamed, for more reasons than one, that it hadn't been long enough. The events of his last visit still haunted him. 

Oz was almost clear of his alma mater when he thought he heard voices coming from the interior, or what was left of it. Despite his misgivings, he felt drawn to check it out. 

He followed the remains of the outside wall, tracking the rising sound with his supersensitive ears. It led him into the skeleton hallways to the section just ouside the former library. A large section of the wall was still intact, but there was a hole just large enough for him to look through. 

Inside Oz saw two females. One had her back to him. The other was Tara. His ears perked up at hearing the first female's voice, and he recognized it as belonging to Anya. 

Tara looked really frustrated. "You can't," she said. "You should go. It's almost time and I have to finish the preparations." 

Oz surveyed the floor around Tara's feet and saw several books, some bags of herbs and symbols drawn on the ground, directly above the Hellmouth. Tara picked up one of the books and started to read while sprinkling something from her hand. He couldn't understand the words, as they weren't in English. 

"The realm of the dead is not something to mess with," said Anya. She was trying to remain calm. 

Tara stopped and looked up at her. "I have no choice. My mom is the only one who can tell me how to stop it from happening, and this is my only chance to bring her back." 

"Stop what?" 

"The demon," replied Tara, continuing her setup. "If I can't do something by my twenty-first birthday, it will take over completely." She paused and then added softly, "You saw what it did to Willow." 

"I did," said Anya. "That's why I know you can't be messing with magic this powerful." 

"Tonight's the night," the witch said. "Once every seven years the moon is full and the planets are positioned exactly right, making the Hellmouth at its strongest. I can't reach as deeply into the realm as I need to without it." 

"But that's exactly what I mean!" Anya's efforts to keep the conversation light, so as not to provoke the other unnecessarily, were not working. "You're very volatile right now. Your demon half can't ne trusted with it." 

Tara ignored her and picked up a different book. She started chanting again, only this time louder and with more emphasis. After several minutes, all the while speaking over Anya's protests, she seemed to reach the end because she kept repeating the same sentence: Ouvrez les Mortes! 

Oz looked down at his watch. Midnight. He wasn't sure what he should do. He could barely believe what he was hearing. 

Before he could think anymore, his worst nightmare came true, literally. In the air in front of Tara, a large black pool formed, shimmering in the magic. The portal to the realm of the dead. 

Having accomplished that task, Oz saw Tara bend to pick up the last of her books. Her back was to him now, but he saw her hesitate. 

"Tara- no!" screamed Anya. "You've got to get control!" 

The sorceress jerked back up, facing Oz, a mask of pain and struggle on her face. 

"I can't!" Tara screamed back. "It won't- I-" Before she could finish speaking, her face morphed into one of the most hideous looking monsters Oz had ever seen, and he had seen a lot, himself included. 

The loss of Tara's concentration, not to mention her human visage, seemed to be having a grave effect on the portal. Before the two young women could do anything else, they were being drawn toward it. Oz started to run out and help them, but the pull of the hole was enormous. He only got one step toward them before he had to struggle to get himself back behind the relative safety of his wall. After a few more seconds he could barely see them in the dark mass. 

And in a flash of light that seemed to manifest itself in beams shooting in every direction, the portal closed.   



	15. Author's Notes on Part One I Digress

Sorry for the interruption in the story flow (I hate it when authors do this), but I had to say this. It is a bit delayed, but I wanted to at least wait until the end of part one. 

This is to the narrowminded person (possibly people) who decided to stop reading this story simply because Tara is a half demon. I know he/she will probably not read this, but it's been bugging me, so this mini-tirade is necessary for my own well-being, but probably not anyone else's. 

1) At the time the review was posted, I hadn't even gotten to the bulk of the Tara-demon stuff (still haven't). How in the world could you have ANY idea what I was/am going to do with that development? 

2) As some of you may remember, at the end of fourth season there was still a loose end dealing with Tara and her sabotage of the demon-locating spell. I DID write the beginning of this story way back then (this is taking a looooong time to finish, unfortunately), so I had to deal with the issue, otherwise I'd feel like I was leaving this gaping hole in the plot. Maybe if I had seen what Joss and Co. did with it later on, I would have done something different, but I hadn't. 

3) Yes, I'll admit it. A small part of me was using this as a means to get Tara out of the way so that Oz could move back into the picture. At the end of fourth season I had no reason to prefer Tara, Oz still being fresh on my mind (and also a longtime favorite). That was then, this is now. I'm not saying that I necessarily prefer Tara over Oz, but she's a much better developed and well-loved (I'm a huge fan) character as of sixth season (before her death, of course). 

4) Someone had to open the portal to the realm of the dead. It's essential to the plot of the story (you'll see). At the time, Tara being a demon was the perfect way to accomplish this -- give Tara background, a problem to solve and voila, perfect plot device AND a way to wrap up those loose ends. Again, had this story been set a couple of seasons later, that might not have been the case. 

5) On the show, Tara died. I hated to see her go, but I also think it worked very well as far as the plot went. I'm not going to get into a long debate over the whole evil lesbian death theory -- that's not what this is about. I just wish that whole issue would stop influencing the way people look at stories and Buffy in general. Sometimes the characters you love are going to have things happen with them that you don't like. Stories mimic real life in that way. I'm sorry if you don't like Tara being half-demon and getting sucked into the portal, but that's just the way it goes. 

6) I started writing this before fourth season had even finished (after this, I'm going to stop pointing that out). This story is not finished. I am still working (very hard) on it. The ending is set in stone (it was the first part completed), but there are thousands of things that could happen between now and then. So.... 

IN CONCLUSION, 

IN THIS TYPE OF STORY, THINGS ARE RARELY WHAT THEY SEEM. ANYTHING GOES. YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT MIGHT HAPPEN NEXT. SO STAY TUNED -- WHAT'S TO COME MIGHT SURPRISE YOU. 

And sucks to be you if you don't stick around long enough to see it. 

(BTW, thank you to everyone who's been reading this all along -- I really appreciate you making an effort to review. And to answer a few questions that have been posed by Queen Boadicea [thank you for faithfully reviewing!]...."Moose Tracks" is a flavor of Mayfield brand ice cream. I guess maybe it's only available in the South or something, oops (I'm in TN). Regardless, it's really good. =) That particular poem is not mine (the one in Doyle's book) -- I found it when I went searching for the quotes to put at the beginning of each section and it happened to exactly fit what I wanted to do. Any other poems you might see (hint, hint) are my own concoctions. 


	16. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter One

Book Two - When the Past Haunts You 

_The past is just a reflection of things to come._   
--Robert Jacob Goodkin   


Angel pulled his car up to the curb in front of Willow's house. Cordelia slowly opened the door and climbed out of the passenger side. She turned back toward him, her hand still on the door. 

"Be careful," she said. "If Drusilla's already managed to get Buffy and Xander..." 

Angel smiled at her concern. "We will be. We'll see you back at Giles'." With that note he pulled away. 

"Do you know where we're going?" asked Gunn as they sped along one of the few main roads in Sunnydale. 

"Dru may be strong enough to kidnap Buffy," said Angel, "But she's certainly not creative." 

"Who exactly is this Drusilla?" 

"A vampire," replied the other, taking a turn into a narrow alleyway and then onto another larger street. 

"That much I gathered," said Gunn, rolling his eyes. "But what does she want with Buffy?" 

Angel shrugged. "Who knows? Drusilla is dangerous, but she's completely insane. Literally." 

"For real?" Gunn said, a bit surprised at the possibility. 

"I should know. I'm the one who made her that way."   


When he woke up, there was dark all around him. He fumbled around on the ground, trying to stand up, and discovered that it was smooth and metallic, though littered with grime and dirt. 

_Where am I?_ he thought. 

As his eyes grew used to the dark, he began to see other shapes around him. Mostly there were boxes and crates, and he seemed to be in a large room with a high ceiling. 

Finally able to stand on his unsteady legs, he took a few steps toward one wall of the room. Not too far from him was a tall staircase, made of the same metal as the floor. 

_Might as well try and find a way out, he thought. It can't be any creepier outside than it is in here._   


Willow sat on her bed, crying softly. Riley and Graham had left her a few minutes before, after she had assured them she was alright. That was one of the biggest lies she had ever told. She was as far from alright as she could be. 

In those seconds when Tara's face had changed and the creature she had become had attacked, Willow had felt her whole world collapsing again. She knew it wasn't betrayal in the way she had felt it with Oz, but was a very similar feeling. There seemed to be a hole right through Willow's soul. 

Jolting her out of her spiralling depression, there was a knock at the door. 

"Who is it?" Willow called, trying to mask the pain in her voice. She really wasn't in the mood to explain this away to her parents. 

The door swung open to reveal Cordelia. "Your mom let me in," she said, coming in and closing the door behind her. "How are you feeling?" 

Willow tried to scrunch up her eyebrows in confusion, but doing so hurt her head. "Cordelia ... what are you doing here?" 

"Well," said Cordelia. "I'm here to check up on you and see if you're up to a little research. I'm in Sunnydale because, well, that's kind of a long story." 

"Short version?" 

Cordelia thought for a minute. "Angel and I had the same dream and then I had a vision of Buffy in trouble. Angel naturally insisted on coming here where we discovered the current situation." She smiled at her summary. "That brings me back to my question - how are you feeling?" 

Willow sighed. "My head still hurts a little, but it's not too bad. The other part ..." she trailed off, not wanting to continue. 

"Short version?" said Cordelia a sincere smile on her face. 

"Hurt, depressed and confused," said the other after a moment's thought. 

"I understand, believe me," said Cordelia, trying not to think too much about her experiences with heartache. It was hard to believe that one of them had been over a year before, and that the girl she was consoling had been part of the cause. 

"How did you come out on the other side?" asked Willow. 

Cordelia laughed softly. "I got over the hurt and depressed. Unfortunately, I think we're stuck with the confused." 

The red head managed a small laugh. "Did you say something about research?" 

"Uh huh." 

"Count me in."   



	17. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Two

Bursting through the door in a fit of rage, the beast stumbled through the hallway. It was injured, but not badly, by the bits of glass from the small window it had broken. Blood streaked the walls as it struggled to reach outdoors. 

Feeling the call of the skies, the creature rushed away from the chemical-scented rooms of the building and toward the bright night. Once again breaking through a door, it finally reach the outside. 

It only stopped for a moment to muse at the light pouring from the full moon and then continued on its hunt. It was hungry. But then again, werewolves were rarely anything else.   
  


"Anything yet?" Giles asked, searching his shelves for a particular book. 

"No, nothing," said Wesley with a sigh. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, a gesture mildly reminiscent of his research companion. "Though it's hard to find something when you're not sure what you're looking for." 

"Ah ha!" said Giles, apparently having found what he was looking for. He pulled a large dusty book off the shelf: _Demon Lore in Early America_. 

"Have you got something?" asked Wesley. 

"Maybe," replied the other. He started flipping pages, mainly looking at pictures. Finally, he stopped on a page and pointed at it with a satisfied smile. 

Wesley leaned over to see what Giles had discovered. "Bhijah demon," he read from the caption below the drawing. "Nearly extinct species - cunning and ruthless." 

"The only problem is," Giles started, "I heard some years back that the last of this species was killed in an altercation with a powerful sorceress. I don't see how Tara could-" 

"Wait!" interrupted Wesley. "That's it! Do you have the companion to this volume - _Contemporary American Demon Lore_?" 

"Yes, of course." He headed back to his bookshelf. 

"Get it," said Wesley. "Our answer will be in there."   
  


Glancing around him, he had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Sure, the Bronze was a happenin' place, but he certainly hadn't expected to be there tonight. 

Sauntering toward the stage, he noticed a large man arguing with one of the stage hands. 

"You can't be up here, man," said the worker, showing the other man his way off the stage. 

Recognizing the big guy, the youth walked toward him, laughing to himself at the confused look on the older one's face, despite having similar feelings himself. 

"What's going on?" growled the elder once he noticed the other. 

The young man smirked. "Hell if I know," he said. "But it's too crowded in here and I'm hungry." 

The tall one nodded and the two went to hang out in the alley next to the club, waiting for the next person who was "lucky" enough to come out by himself.   



	18. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Three

When Xander woke up, he found Buffy leaning over him, a worried look on her face. "What's going on?" 

"Drusilla," said Buffy, helping him sit up. "She's got it through that screwed up head of hers that kidnapping me will bring Angel back to her." 

Xander raised an eyebrow. "These love triangle things are getting way too weird for my taste." He glanced around, immediately noticing the familiar surroundings. "Way too weird." 

"Is this the same place?" asked Buffy. 

He nodded. "As a matter of fact," he said, sitting up a little further. "I was laying right here when our rescue squad showed up." It certainly wasn't a memory he wanted to relive. 

"Maybe there's some mystical energy around this place that draws the wackos to it," Buffy said with a grim smile. 

"Some day I'm going to live somewhere where there are no mystical forces. I'm ready to be mystical-free." 

"Did you hear that?" said Buffy suddenly, her body tensing into ready alert. 

"Hear what?" he asked. 

She put a finger to her lips and they listened. Soon the noise came again. "It sounds like a fight." 

"And not a small one," agreed Xander as the sounds grew louder and more frequent. 

A few moments later, the sound had reached the door at the top of the stairs, and they heard several bodies hit the floor. The door swung open. 

"Angel?" said Buffy in disbelief at the person that came through the door, mostly because she hadn't expected him so soon. "What are you doing here?" 

"No time to explain," he said quickly. "We've got to get out of here now." 

Gunn reached the top of the stairs as Buffy helped the slightly light-headed Xander up them. "Watch the middle section," he called. "It's rotted clear through." 

"Don't I know it," mumbled Xander. 

When they reached the landing, Buffy stared up at Angel. She had to curb the impulse to touch the already healing cut on his face. "What happened?" 

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," said Angel, rushing them out. "Something really weird is going on."   
  


Oz had to blink a few times to make sure his eyes weren't failing him. Standing in the ruins, about twenty feet from where the portal had opened up, were two young women, and not the same two that had been there. 

One had long, light brown hair and was wearing a dress that probably hadn't been in fashion since the early part of last century. The other, well, the other was the reason Oz was unsure of his eyes. 

He slowly inched his way out from behind his piece of wall and walked toward them. He stayed in the open as much as possible, not wanting to startle them. It wasn't long before they saw him coming. 

The brunette was panicked, her eyes wide with fear and surprise. "Who are you people?! Where am I?!" 

"Whoa," said Oz softly. "Calm down. I was about to ask you the same thing." He looked at the girl with curiosity. "I'm Oz," he said finally, holding out his hand. 

The girl didn't shake it, but her fears seemed to drop a little. "Gabriella," she said. "Most people call me Gaby. And you?" she asked, indicating the third person. 

The girl looked up, clearly shocked, but sober nonetheless. She glanced at Oz. "I am Kendra, the vampire slayer."   



	19. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Four

After dropping Willow off, Riley had headed straight back to his dorm room. He still had some more packing to do and more stuff to move to the apartment he was renting for the summer. The school lodgings had to be vacated the next day. 

Groaning loudly, he collapsed onto the bed next to a half-full box. He was sore and tired and still had no clue why. The trouble was, now he wanted even less to bother Buffy with it, in light of that night's happenings. Resisting the urge to sleep, Riley forced himself to get up after a few more seconds. 

The room seemed to spin. It certainly wasn't a natural illness, he was fairly certain of that. Not only had it started with Adam's downfall, but he had a steady ache in his shoulder where he had removed the controlling chip. 

Riley stumbled to the door. As much as he hated it, he was going to have to tell Buffy and the others. Because he could be of no help to them if he was dead.   
  


After making it to the top of the stairs, finding the exit hadn't been that difficult. As it turned out, he was on a large cargo ship, docked at what appeared to be a fairly small harbor. He snuck to the edge of the boat, not wanting to have to answer questions that he didn't know the answers to, and, after a little searching, found a way onto land. 

_Sunnydale Harbor_, a sign read. _Why does that name sound so familiar?_ His mind was really fuzzy, all his past seemed like a blur. Shaking his head, he did the only thing he could do. 

He started walking.   
  


Cordelia and Willow arrived at Giles' house just in time to hear what the two men had discovered. Willow listened bravely, though Giles insisted that she sit down and made her some hot tea. 

"By the 1970s there was only one Bhijah demon remaining," Wesley started, referring to the book only to confirm as he spoke from memory. "He was one of the most fierce ever -- probably why he survived while the rest died out. He was probably worried about dying himself because he decided that he needed a child. 

"Disguising himself as a human--Bhijah have, well had, all sorts of magical tricks of deception--this last demon slept with a human and had a child. By this time, the woman had figured out that she had been tricked. It turned out that she was a very powerful witch." 

Willow gasped. "Tara's mom." 

Wesley nodded. "I'm afraid so. As little as I know about her, it all fits. The girl was born half-human, half-demon. The demon side was not pretty. The mother devised a spell that would hold the demon side at bay until the girl's 21st birthday. 

"She was in the process of trying to find a stronger spell when the demon hunted her down, determined to kill her and take the child. The witch was able to kill the Bhijah, but the spell that she used to do it sapped so much of her energy that she died soon after." 

They were all silent for a few minutes, trying to give Willow time to let it sink in. 

"Her birthday is in two weeks," said Willow softly. "The demon side must be beginning to get back some control." 

"That's very possible," said Giles gently. "Have you noticed any strange behavior before now?" 

"No," she said. "No, wait. Last night she made a big deal out of wanting one of the spell books I had borrowed back. I'll bet anything that that's the one she was looking for in Buffy's room." 

"What kind of spell was she doing?" asked Cordelia. 

Willow shrugged. "She told me she was just organizing her books, so I don't know. It was a book on power centers." 

Giles looked concerned. "She must be doing a very powerful spell if she needed a book like that. This is looking worse all the time."   



	20. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Five

When Buffy reached the main floor of the factory, she wasn't surprised that there was a fight going on. She was surprised, however, that the major part of that fight didn't revolve around Angel and his friend. There was someone else in the middle of the scuffle. 

Angel pulled her behind a stack of crates in one corner. The other followed suit. For a few minutes they watched the fighters in silence, and they weren't noticed. 

"Look carefully," said Angel, pointing into the middle of the large group. "Then you'll see what's going on, and why I couldn't explain it to you." 

Buffy allowed her eyes to drift from person to person. She saw Drusilla being protected, surrounded in fact, by a group of her vampire lackeys. She didn't look too happy though, probably feeling a bit insulted. Then Buffy saw what was the more likely reason for the vampire's anger. 

Willow. 

She was right in the heat of things, and she was kicking some butt -- literally. Buffy watched as her best friend landed a roundhouse kick to one of her opponent's kidneys. She was momentarily confused -- how in the world? -- until she saw the other one. 

Standing almost back to back with Willow was Xander. Buffy squinted at them, and her tiny grain of suspicion grew into a curse. 

"Vampires," she scowled. She turned back to look at the real Xander. "Like in my dream. What the hell is going on?!" She looked back at Angel. 

He looked thoughtful. "We need to get back to Giles, and out of here before they figure out that they're all on the same side," he added with a weary glance at the warring vampires. "He's back at his place, researching the stuff in that note you left him. Hopefully Willow and Cordelia are there now too." 

Buffy studied his face. He obviously knew something about this whole mess that he hadn't told her yet. "Let's go," she said. "We need to compare notes."   
  


When he reached Buffy's house, Riley found that Joyce was the only one home. It was late -- after two a.m. -- but she was still awake. 

"Have you talked to Buffy?" she asked him as she opened the door and let him in. 

"Actually, I came here looking for her. I haven't seen her since Graham and I left," he added, noticing the worried look on her face. 

"Oh," she said, breathing a little sigh of relief. "She and Xander went looking for Anya." Riley looked confused so she added, "It'll probably be simpler if I let her fill you in on the details, but I do know that they're meeting at Giles' later." 

Riley nodded seriously. "Do you mind if I sit for a few minutes? I ran all the way over here, and it'd be nice to rest a second before heading over there," he lied. Truth was, he'd strolled the entire way and he was still winded. 

"No, I don't mind at all. Can I get you something to drink?" 

"No, that's OK," he said, shaking his head. "I can't stay long." 

Mrs. Summers was about to sit down next to him when there was a knock at the door. She answered it, slightly surprised at what she saw. "Oz?" 

"Is Buffy here?" he asked. "Something really weird is going on." 

"She's out right now," Buffy's mom replied. 

"She'll be at Giles' later," said Riley, standing up and coming to join them at the door. "I was getting ready to head over there myself."   



	21. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Six

Buffy, Angel, Xander and Gunn arrived at the apartment to find the others in deep research. All except for Willow--she was asleep on the couch. 

"Did you find anything?" Buffy asked Giles. 

"Quite a lot, actually," he replied. He did a quick run-down about Tara and the Bhijah demon legend for the newcomers. 

"Poor Will," she said quietly. "How did she take it?" 

"Fairly well, considering," said Giles. "She wanted to stay up and help us, but I thought it would be best that she rest." 

"Good man," said Xander. "Have you found anything on the dreams yet?" 

"No. Nothing." 

"Well, we've got some interesting insight," said Buffy, "But first I want to know what Angel Investigations is doing here." She turned around to look at her former flame. 

"I had a vision," input Cordelia. 

"She saw you and Xander kidnapped by Drusilla," Angel finished. "I tried to call, but there was no answer, so we came to warn you." He didn't mention that he had been planning to come anyway. "We've also had the same dream, about the-" 

"Big black cloud in the air and a flash of light," they heard a voice say from behind them. Oz walked into the room. "I knocked, but no one answered so ..." 

"Oz?" said Buffy. 

"Isn't this a nifty little reunion?" said Xander. "And apocalyptic dreams to boot. Just like old times." 

"Even more so than you think," said Oz, opening the door a little wider. In walked Riley and Gaby, followed by Kendra and someone they had picked up along the way, Larry. 

Everyone's eyes went wide. 

"But ... but ...you died," said Buffy. 

"They all did," said Oz. "But they've been brought back. They might not be the only ones." 

"This is an interesting turn of events," said Giles. "But how?" 

"I think I'm starting to see where this is going," said Buffy. "At the factory we saw Willow and Xander from bizarroland. Vampires. Vamp Xander was in my dream." 

"Vampire Willow was in mine," said Oz. "A werewolf too." 

"A werewolf?" 

Oz lowered his eyes. "Veruca." 

Buffy's "oh" face showed that she wished she hadn't asked. "Angel?" 

"The Oracles," he said. 

There was a gasp coming from the corner of the room, and they turned to see Cordelia holding her breath. "No, it can't be." 

"Cordelia?" said Wesley. He had been quiet, since he had very little connection with the events thus far, but the look on his co-worker's face concerned him. 

She didn't answer, only looked at Angel until recognition dawned on his face. 

"Doyle," said Angel quietly. "She dreamt about Doyle, our partner that died." 

"Our friend," Cordelia corrected, as if "partner" sounded too impersonal. 

"What about you Xander?" continued Buffy, the silence in the room too discomforting. "What did you and-" she stopped suddenly, a panicked look spreading across her face. 

Xander's face echoed hers. "Anya!" he said. "We forgot about Anya!" 

Oz held up a hand. "Hold on," he said. "I think I might be able to answer a lot of your questions. About the dreams, Anya and ..." He paused for a second. He hadn't heard their previous dilemma, so he was careful in continuing. "And Tara," he said finally. 

Something in the tone of his voice warned Buffy of impending bad news. "We'd better wake Will up for this." 

Oz's eyes jerked around the room. "Willow's here?" he said nervously. "This is not going to be fun."   



	22. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Seven

"And then we found Larry just outside." Having everyone's attention on him made Oz a bit self-conscious, and he was glad he was finally finished with the tale. 

The only reply he received was the sound of Willow's sobs, muffled though they were against Xander's shoulder, the latter doing some silent grieving of his own. Oz was filled with longing, guilt and jealousy, all in those few seconds of watching her. 

"So it seems this was all an accident," said Wesley, since no one else had a comment. "This young woman opened a highly volatile pathway-" 

"No," interrupted Buffy. "There's no way this could all be chance. It's all too complex, with the dreams and Tara's involvement." 

"She was just trying to find a way to banish her demon side," said Willow softly, raising her head. 

"That's what I'm talking about Will," said Buffy in a soothing voice. "We had these dreams that just happened to time with Tara's upcoming birthday, and she just happened to need to open this portal? I don't think so." She looked over at her watcher. "Any ideas as to where this could fit in to things? Prophecies, that sort of thing?" 

Giles was sitting at his desk, deeply immersed in some particularly musty texts. "I'm checking all the usual volumes of prophecy, but I haven't come up with anything yet. I'm afraid my library of the sort isn't as extensive as I'd like." 

"Wait a minute," Buffy interjected, looking at Kendra and Larry. "You two died at the school, and that's where Oz found you. So maybe-" 

"They're going to reappear where they died," finished Oz. He shrugged. "Sorry. I would have mentioned that, but I thought it was sorta obvious." 

"Can I ask something?" said Gaby timidly from the chair she was sitting in. The main Scoobies had taken charge of the conversation, leaving the others to sit in the background, relatively unnoticed. 

"Yes?" said Giles, looking at the young girl. It hadn't occurred to him yet that she might be of some interest, since they knew nothing about her. 

The girl turned to Kendra, studying the other for a moment. "You said before that you were a vampire slayer," she said. 

"Yes, I am," replied Kendra calmly. 

"But that's impossible," said Gaby matter-of-factly. 

"What are you talking about?" asked Buffy, also really taking notice of the girl for the first time. 

"She can't be the vampire slayer. I am."   



	23. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Eight

"Oh dear lord," was all Giles could say. The others were, for what seemed like the millionth time that day, too shocked to speak. 

"You've got to be kidding me," said Xander. "You're telling me there are FOUR slayers now?" 

Wesley jumped up from his seat and went immediately to Giles' bookshelf, pulling off a book he had seen earlier and flipping wildly through the pages. 

"What did I say?" Xander asked innocently. 

"There cannot be four slayers," said Gaby, who was beginning to look less calm than she had finally managed to get. "There cannot even be two. In all the world there is only one slayer. She alone will-" 

"Yeah, yeah. We've heard it," said Xander. "One dies, a new one is called. Well, let me give you the quick run-down. Buffy died, I revived her, but Kendra was still called. That makes two. Then Kendra died and Faith was called. Still only two. Now you two have been brought back from the dead and, if you are who you say you are, that makes four. Got it?" 

Gabriella didn't say anything else, looking a bit surprised to have been put down so effortlessly by the other. 

"Ah ha!" called Wesley, slamming the book down on the desk on top of the others. "Here," he pointed. 

"This is an index of other books," said Giles, looking at the other former watcher and not the book. 

"I know that. Read." 

Reluctantly, Giles turned to the book that was opened to the "I" section. "The Ishmarian Chronicles," he read. "Prophecies detailed by the great Ishmar Burhad including references to the fall of the kings, the Valorian chasm, the Chantia blade and the age of the slayers." 

"I always thought that was a typographical error," said Wesley, "But maybe not. The age of the slayers. Plural." 

Giles shook his head. "Unfortunately, I don't have that book." 

"I do," said Angel, rising from his seat purposefully. "I'll get it. I need to go back anyway." 

Buffy had to fight to keep her voice calm and cool. "Already? You just got here." 

"We did our part," said Cordelia, standing up. "All my vision pointed to was you getting kidnapped by psycho-chick, so now we can-" 

"No. Stay here." Angel was already at the door. "I'll be back as soon as I take care of some business." 

"It'll be daylight soon," insisted his employee, coming to his side. "I'll drive." 

"I need Wes on this one. He can look through the books back at the office and bring back any that might be of some use." 

"But-" 

Angel put his hands on the girl's shoulders and looked into her eyes. "If he's there, I'll bring him back. I promise." 

Wesley hurriedly went after Angel, avoiding Cordelia's jealous gaze and the two left for L.A. 

"Uh, guys?" said Willow. She had been quiet, trying to deal with everything that had been thrown at her that day, but in all that thinking, something had occurred to her. "People that were dead have been coming back to life, right? I mean, Kendra, Larry, vampire me..." 

"What are you getting at, Will?" asked Buffy. 

"Have you thought of the others that could have been brought back? Any of the million vamps you've killed, not to mention the Order of Taraka or-" 

"The Master," Buffy finished quietly. "We've got to go on patrol." She jumped up and eyed the group before her, an impossibly large number to go all together. All the better for covering the town. "We need to cover as much ground as possible, hitting all the highest death areas." 

"That means our favorite haunt," said Xander with extreme sarcasm. "The cemetery could be vamp city by now." 

"And the Bronze," input Willow. "Always the popular attack spot." 

"If the people from the dreams are coming back, someone needs to hit the UC Sunnydale campus," said Oz. 

Buffy nodded, not making him mention his dream about Veruca in front of Willow. The girl had way too much to think about as it was. There was no reason to drudge up old unpleasant memories. 

"OK, I'm taking the high school, no questions asked," said Buffy. "The possibility of some pretty nasty things showing up there is pretty high. Will, do you think you're up to going with me? I might need some of your magic skills." 

Her friend only nodded. 

"Kendra, you and Oz take the Bronze. Riley, take campus with-" 

"I'll go with him," spoke up Gunn. 

Buffy turned to face the owner of the voice, yet another face that she didn't recognize. "You came with Angel, right?" 

"That's Gunn. He's been working with Angel," Cordelia explained. "He rode with us into town." 

"I have family here," Gunn clarified. 

"I'll pick up Graham on the way, too," added Riley. "We could use the extra help." 

Buffy allowed herself a small smile in her boyfriend's direction and then was back to business. "OK. And Cordelia-" she started, but then noticed the look on the girl's face at the mention of her name. The look that said nothing was tearing her out of the reach of the phone. "You stay here and help Giles with the research. Larry, you'd better stay here too." 

Larry was still a bit stunned by it all, and made no effort to disagree. 

"Gabriella, do you think you're up to a little slaying?" 

"You mean, like vampires?" the girl asked timidly. 

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Vampires, demons, monsters in general. Yes, that would be in the job description of 'slayer'." 

"It's just that I-" Gaby stopped and looked at the eyes that were on her. "Yes, I think I can handle it." 

"Good," continued Buffy, anxious to get started. "Xander, you and Gaby get the cemetery. And guys, if there's too big of a problem for you to handle, get out of there. That goes for all of you." 

As they all dispersed, Riley caught Buffy and pulled her aside. "What's going on?" 

"What do you mean?" she asked, scrunching up her forehead. "That's what we're trying to figure out." 

"I mean with Angel." 

Buffy studied his face for a split second before she realized what he was getting at. He was jealous. "You're not going back to that, are you? Angel and I haven't been together for a year. Why can't you get over it? I have." 

He stared into her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to read the thoughts beneath them. "Have you?"   



	24. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Nine

Prison most certainly wasn't a comfortable place, but Faith seemed to have "don't mess with me" written all over her, so most of the time no one did. She spent the majority of her time thinking -- something she had tried not to do much of before her breakdown -- and that's why she jumped when the guard came to her cell. 

"Follow me," he said firmly, letting the sliding door slam open, metal against metal. 

Faith stood up and walked slowly with him, her mind racing with questions -- _in the middle of the night?_ -- she couldn't ask. She had learned quickly that a quiet inmate was a happy inmate, especially when the guard you were following was the only one who had ever harrassed you for no reason. 

The man led her into a small meeting room, occupied only by a table and two chairs. On the table was a small stack of clothing and a pair of shoes. 

"Get changed," said the guard, scowling for reasons that Faith couldn't see. "He'll be here any minute." With that he exited, closing the door and locking it from the outside. 

She approached the table with caution. She hadn't yet figured out what was going on, but it was a couple of hours before dawn and she had a meeting of some sort. Certainly out of the ordinary. Just like old times. 

The clothes consisted of blue jeans and a plain white tshirt, white underwear, white socks, and average white tennis shoes. Not seeing anything wrong with them, she eagerly stripped and put them on. Anything was better than that horrid prison uniform she'd been wearing for the last month. 

The room was so silent that Faith picked up the chair to pull it out, rather than let it screech across the floor. Then she sat down to wait on whoever "he" was that was coming. 

_He_ was either taking his time or running later because the time dragged on and still no show. Faith's legs were starting to cramp from sitting in one position for so long. She tried changing the way her legs were crossed, but nothing was comfortable. Finally, with a quick glance around the room for one-way windows, she propped her legs up on the table. 

Naturally, that's when _he_ walked into the room. Fast as lightning, her feet were flat on the floor and she sat up a little straighter. 

"Don't stop being comfortable on account of me," he said, setting his black hat down on the table. He sat down in the chair across from her and probably would have put his own feet on the table if it weren't for having to be able to reach his briefcase. 

"Bob Smith's the name." He popped a cigarette in his mouth and tried three times to light his match before he was successful. Then he took a big puff and blew out a perfect smoke ring. "I'm your lawyer." 

Faith eyed him skeptically: tossled hat-hair, loud orange silk shirt, a briefcase well-past it's expiration date. "You don't look like a lawyer." 

He shrugged. "Call it a temp job." 

"I don't have a lawyer." 

The man pulled a stack of papers from his briefcase and put them on the table in front of her. "These are documents allowing your early release. I just need your signature on the last page." 

She idly flipped through the pages. "Yeah right. I'm in here for murder, buddy. There's no way anyone's letting me out yet." 

He didn't say a word, only smoked his cigarette and stared at her as if he didn't care one way or the other. 

Finally, curiosity got the better of her and she leaned over, reading the first page. The heading was all she needed: _Immediate Release Order_. "Is this legit?" 

"You think they'd let me in here if it wasn't?" 

Faith continued to flip through the document, skimming the text as she went along. When she got to the end, it was already signed by the mayor and the prison warden. All that was missing was her signature. 

Her "lawyer" pulled out a pen and rolled it across the table to her. She picked it up and stared at it for a moment, almost as if she didn't know what it was. 

"This was supposed to be my redemption," she said quietly, not intending for him to hear her. 

"Redemption comes in a lot of ways," he answered her. "Maybe whoever's dealing yours out decided on something more appropriate." 

"I can't think of anything that would be a better punishment than prison." Despite her reservations, she signed the blank line. She wasn't stupid enough to pass up an opportunity like this, and the strangeness of it all had her curious. 

"Redemption isn't about punishment," said the man, taking the papers back from her and putting them back in the ancient leather bag. "It's about tilting the scales back toward the side they need to be on. Who better to add weight than the one who was just taken off the other side?" 

Faith didn't seem to know what to do next, so she just stood up with him. 

"You can leave now," he said quietly. "You're a free woman." 

"What do I do?" she asked. "I don't even know where to begin." 

He turned back to her before opening the door. "Something like this happened to me, I'd want to go talk to my most trusted friend first thing," he said, a bit cryptically. 

Faith didn't move as he walked through the door. "Why is this happening?" 

She heard his voice echo down the hallway. "Don't ask me. I'm just the messenger."   



	25. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Ten

"So you said you have family here?" said Riley, trying to strike up conversation with his patrol partner. Anything to keep his mind off of his aching limbs and fuzzy head. 

"Yeah," Gunn replied. He didn't really feel up to small-talk if he was getting ready to go into battle, but the other guy seemed nice enough and he didn't want to snub him. "An aunt and uncle. My cousin went to UC Sunnydale, actually." 

"Did he transfer?" asked Riley. "Not that I'd blame him, Hellmouth considered and all." 

"No, he died." 

Riley continued walking in awkward silence, trying to choose his words. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to get so personal." 

"You didn't know," said Gunn simply. He wanted to say that it was OK, but it really wasn't. Nothing that had to do with untimely death was OK. "That's why I'm here, actually. It happened a little while back, but I just heard about it. I wanted to see my aunt and uncle and tell them I was sorry I wasn't at Forrest's funeral." 

"Forrest?" Riley stopped walking to stare at the other. "Forrest Gates?" 

"That would be him. Did you know him from school or something?" 

"Yeah," answered Riley, a bit sadly. "He was my best friend."   
  


"Do you think we'll find anything?" asked Willow, trying to match Buffy's pace as they turned onto the street where the former Sunnydale High School was located. "I mean, Oz and the others have already been there." 

"I sure hope not, Will, but I can't take any chances." Buffy unzipped her duffle bag as they walked and pulled out a double-sided ax with a long, smooth handle. "And if we find anything, I'll be ready." 

In unconscious response, Willow raised the small bag of herbs she was carrying a little higher. It was only a small protective talisman--all Buffy had given her time to prepare--but at least it was something. The weight of it in her hands lessened her fear the tiniest bit. 

The ruins of the building loomed over them like a silent, still skeleton of some ancient monster. It wasn't far from the truth, and Buffy's grip tightened around her weapon as they crossed the lawn toward it. Things were entirely too quiet for her comfort. 

They went carefully through the broken wood and plaster, making their way to the source of all their Sunnydale problems--the Hellmouth. Still, there was nothing. 

"I guess we should be glad that whoever picked these refugees from death didn't have a really bad sense of humor," Buffy said as she scanned the empty "room". 

Willow didn't answer. She was kneeling a few feet away from the other, holding something in her hand. 

"Will?" Buffy walked around the girl. 

Her face was wet with tears. Willow was holding a small magical jewel. It had belonged to Tara. 

Buffy sank down next to her, wrapping protective arms around her shoulders. "Oh god, Will. I'm so sorry."   
  


"Look out!" 

Gaby swung her arm around just in time to teach the vamp that had been trying to sneak up on her a lesson: trying to outsmart a slayer will get you a broken nose. Her moves were a bit rusty--she had been dead for many decades--but she was holding her own very well, to put it mildly. 

Managing to properly stake the vampire that he had been fighting, Xander was able to look to his left where the other three bloodsuckers had, thankfully for him, focused their attention on the more formidable opponent. The thing he didn't understand was that he had dusted his two, yet the girl was still dealing with the others. She wasn't losing, but she wasn't killing either. 

_Maybe she's forgotten what she's supposed to do_, he thought with a wry smile. Sighing and rolling his eyes a little, he drew his stake up a little closer to his chest and charged into the fray. 

One of the three fell on his back, the result of a slayer-powered kick to the chest. Xander quickly leaped on him and shoved the pointed end of his solid oak stake through the vampire's dead heart. _3-0 for the home team_. 

"You have a stake for a reason," he called to his fighting partner with more sarcasm than he had meant to. 

An obviously stunned female vamp staggered mere inches from Gabriella's hands, yet, instead of making short work of her, the slayer insisted on continuing to pummel the skinny blond one in front of her. 

"Um, hello? Stake? Heart? Poof?" Xander called, standing back and watching the combat with confusion. That's when he looked down at his feet and saw the stake that lay there. He quickly scooped it up and tossed it. "Gaby! Catch." 

The girl barely shifted her focus from the female, who had recovered from her stupor, and caught the weapon easily. Xander used the moment that the skinny one was watching the stake come back into play to step up and push a stake through his back. It didn't quite go in all the way, but a frustrated punch remedied that problem. 

His other problem wasn't quite so simple. He looked up just in time to see Gabriella throw her weapon to the ground, deliberately. She launched a roundhouse at the remaining vampire, knocking her into Xander. After a few seconds struggle, he was able to roll over and dust the already-fatigued demon. 

Brushing the vampire remains off his shirt, Xander turned and glared angrily at the slayer. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"   



	26. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Eleven

"Where exactly are we supposed to be checking?" Graham asked, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "This is a big campus. Chances are anything that came back is gonna be long gone by now." 

"Probably," agreed Riley. "But we can't take any chances on missing something when we could have found it right away." 

The three guys walked at a determined pace through the most trafficked areas of the college grounds, hoping to at least protect the population if they couldn't narrow the search down to one specific place. They had hit the courtyard in front of the cafeteria before they even saw a single other person. The bright night lighting cast their shadows onto the concrete, twenty foot tall likenessess following their every move. 

"Not a very lively place this time of night," Gunn commented with a nod at the solitary student who dashed quickly between the cafeteria and the dorm next door. 

"If you learn one thing at this university, it's not to stay out too far past dark," Riley said before stopping suddenly. 

"What is it?" asked Gunn. 

Riley leaned down and put his hands on his knees. "It's nothing. I just want to take a minute to pull everything together in my head before we encounter anything." 

Gunn glanced over at Graham to see if the other noticed anything out of place, but the quiet guy said nothing. Gunn shrugged, assuming they would know the each other better than he did, and started to scan the areas surrounding the courtyard. 

"Did you guys just see something move over there?" Graham said quietly, shading his eyes from the lights as he peered over to a densely-treed corner. 

After a few more self-fortifying deep breaths, Riley turned his head toward the spot of his friend's discomfort and watched for a few seconds. "No, nothing." 

Gunn was about to concur with this observation when a loud roar burst from the bushes to their right, followed by a giant blur of brown fur and claws. He was knocked off his feet and hit his head on the bicycle rack next to the building. With fuzzy vision, he watched what was happening, trying to get his senses back enough to help. 

A tremendous beast set upon Graham and Riley, the scent of death emanating from it. Its tangled, matted fur was streaked with the blood of a recent kill, but it was obviously still hungry--either that or it simply enjoyed the thrill of the hunt. 

Graham swung his fist at the creature's side, but it barely faltered and focused it's attack on Riley. The thing could sense his weakness and reveled in it, slashing at the young man with its claws and trying hard to rip his throat out. Riley fought it back with as much strength as he could muster, but he was still pushed to his knees. 

The beast was caught in the side of the head by a large tree branch that Graham had snagged from nearby and it was temporarily distracted from its onslaught on Riley. With a snarl in its attacker's direction, it swung a paw and easily snapped the stick in two. 

"It's a werewolf!" Gunn cried out, having recovered from his head trauma quickly enough. "We're not equipped to fight it. Let's bail!" He swung at the thing and managed to daze it for a moment. 

"Riley, come on!" Graham pulled his injured friend to his feet, supporting most of his weight. Gunn came to the other side and the two struggled to get into a building before the werewolf could snap back. 

A haunting howl followed them, but the creature had decided there was more worthy prey in the other direction and left them alone on the campus once again. 

Riley sank to the floor in the lobby of the cafeteria as Gunn watched the beast run off. Graham tried to coax the wounded man back up, but Riley was barely responsive. 

"It isn't like Riley to lose a fight this easily," Graham said, obviously worried at the other's condition. "We should take him to a hospital." 

Gunn examined Riley's injuries, a shallow cut on his right arm and some bruising around his rib cage and shoulders. They didn't seem very major--certainly not enough to take a strong guy like Riley down like he was. Then Gunn saw his eyes, half-veiled under the eyelids of the nearly unconscious man: they were a glossy black. 

"I don't think this is anything a hospital can help."   



	27. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Twelve

The screams were coming from the alley. 

Oz and Kendra had barely made it into the vicinity of the Bronze before trouble arose. They dashed around the corner in time to see a girl drop to the ground, either dead or very close to it. The tall, muscular vampire that had been holding her smiled with a ghastly intensity and watched as his smaller companion feasted on another girl. 

"Let her go!" Oz yelled, brandishing a large wooden cross. 

A laugh had just started to escape the stronger vampire's throat before the slayer was upon him: a flying kick landed him square on the chest and he fell to his back. The other fiend backed off almost immediately, as if he knew his strength was not a match for the girl. 

Oz grabbed the arm of the released captive. "Run!" As soon as she was a safe distance away, he joined the fray. 

"Luke! Let's get out of here, man," called the younger vampire, already turning to run with Oz advancing toward him. 

"I will not be defeated by these mere humans," Luke insisted, continuing to trade blows with Kendra. 

The other stood perfectly still, despite the cross drawing near his face, and Luke paused his fight and held eye contact for a split second. "We're leaving. Now." 

Before Kendra and Oz could even compensate for the sudden change in focus of the vamps, the two were gone. 

Kendra wanted to follow, but Oz suggested a more sensible plan of action: 

"Let's make sure there's nothing bigger going on _inside_."   
  


"Where are the other volumes?" Wesley called as he came into the room. 

Angel didn't answer and strode to the other side of the room, looking for something appropriately valuable. He held up a blue vase covered in Chinese characters. "Is this authentic?" 

Wesley, equally distracted by his pursuit for research materials, barely glanced up from a stack of books. "No. Cordelia bought it from that flea market a few weeks ago. She thought we needed more color in this room." He dropped a book onto the stack, frustated. "I can't find it anywhere. Are you sure we have it?" 

"Don't we have anything left that's worth anything?" Angel sifted through the weapons cabinet. 

"Angel," Wesley said, a bit impatiently. "The book." 

"I'm not going to give them any of my books," the other returned. "They wouldn't like them anyway." 

Wesley didn't move and only stared at Angel, waiting for the vampire to look up at him. 

Angel paused as something on the floor caught his attention. He picked up the crumpled piece of paper and gently unfurled it, smoothing it on the end table. 

"What is it?" Wesley asked, his attention diverted temporarily by the look in his employer's eyes. 

"Buffy," Angel whispered, a barely audible sound, rather breathed than spoken. "That book," he said in a normal tone, as if he'd just realized what Wesley was talking about. "It's on the kitchen table." 

Wesley strode into the kitchen to retrieve the book, all but forgetting the paper Angel had found. But Angel couldn't forget. As he stared down at the pencil drawing, he decided it wasn't quite as accurate as he had thought. There was a new picture of Buffy now in his mind, a more grown-up one. He had been away from her for so long. Now the lines in her face were more defined, and her eyes seemed darker, deeper. 

She was still more beautiful than he could ever translate onto paper. 


	28. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Thirte

"So there is nothing at the high school?" 

"No, Giles. No big bad to fight, thank god." Buffy sank onto the couch both in relief and in exhaustion. "Have you heard from the others yet?" 

Cordelia, from her position in the kitchen next to the phone, leaned across the counter. "No one's called, but the airwaves have been relatively quiet for a Sunnydale night, so I'd say nothing major's gone wrong." She patted the police scanner that was plugged in next to the half-empty coffee pot. 

The door to the apartment swung open, slamming against the wall before swinging back to be caught by the person who had opened it. Xander strode in, dragging a reluctant Gaby behind him. "Something is really wrong." 

Buffy's leisurely posture immediately snapped into attention. Even Willow, curled childlike in the airchair, turned an extra ounce of effort into listening to her friend. 

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked sharply. 

"Her," Xander answered, pointing back to the young woman who stood by the door, her arms crossed protectively across her stomach. 

Gaby's eyes shifted from the wall to the floor, and Buffy relaxed a little. "What do you mean, Xander?" 

Xander, still worked up with his agitation, took a few more long steps into the living room. "We hit every cemetary in Sunnydale, even that little new one over by the marina." 

"Did you encounter anyone?" Giles asked, a cup of luke-warm tea clutched in his hands. 

"Yeah, plenty of someones," Xander said with a smirk. "But there's no telling if they were brought back or if they were just your typical nightly slaying partners. I mean, they were pretty much just dead." 

"I'm not quite seeing the big bad here." Buffy was beginning to relax a bit more. "Lots of vamps in the graveyards. Big yahoo." 

Shaking his head, Xander reached over and pulled Gaby more into the center of the room. "Not the vamps: miss 'there can be only one' over here. Do you know how many vamps I killed? Fifteen. The slayer. Zero. Now is it just me, or does that score seem a bit inappropriate despite my manly prowess?" 

Willow raised an eyebrow but said nothing. 

"OK, OK," Xander conceded, waving his arms. "She beat some of them up pretty good and I just finished them off. The point is, she wouldn't stake them. Not didn't. Wouldn't." 

Buffy, a confused wrinkle spreading across her forehead, was about to speak when Cordelia came in from the kitchen. 

"And who can blame her," the girl said. "Look at this outfit. Not exactly built for the slay." She indicated Gaby's early-twentieth century garb. 

Giles frowned but nodded all the same. "You do look a bit conspicuous in those clothes. Perhaps it would be best if we provided an alternative?" He turned to look at Buffy. 

"Oh, yeah. Sure," she said, looking up at Gaby. "I always keep a change of clothes here, just in case the slaying is a little more messy than usual. They'd probably fit you." She glanced at the stairs but was reluctant to move her protesting muscles. 

"I'll get it," Cordelia said, lightly grabbing Gaby's arm. She leaned toward the girl conspiratorily. "You're going to need some help if we're depending on Buffy's fashion sense. Don't worry, I can work miracles." She only hesitated for a second, looking back into the kitchen. 

"There is a phone in my bedroom," Giles said. "I do not live entirely in the dark ages." 

Once the two girls had disappeared, Buffy shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I wonder how in the world Angel lives with that girl." 

"Hello!" Xander exclaimed, stepping in front of the couch and waving his arms in front of Buffy's face. "Did everyone forget my big entrance here? Something. Is. Really. Wrong." 

"I know what it is, Xander," Giles said with a small, satisfied smile. 

"You do?" 

"You do?" echoed Buffy. 

Giles nodded. "While you were all gone, I did a little research on Gabriella. Her appearance here seems even more coincidental than any of the others. Another slayer was drawn here--died here--even before you." 

"Obviously," Buffy said, not seeing why it was all that important. 

"I went through the Watcher diaries, but I found nothing about a slayer named Gabriella, or about one who had been sent to this area." 

Willow's mouth twisted in thought. "So she's not who she says she is?" 

Giles shook his head. "No, I believe she is. After extensive reading, I came across a loose page stuck inside one of my books, a book on mystical energy. It was handwritten and rough on the edge, like it had been ripped from one of the diaries. There were no names, but the writer spoke of a rogue slayer, one who refused to kill vampires." 

"A slayer who didn't kill vampires?" Xander said. "Yeah, the description fits so far." 

Giles continued. "Apparently she had a family member who had been turned. She spent her entire life searching for a cure for vampirism." 

"Didn't she know the rules?" Willow asked. "There is no cure, all vampires need to die, yadda yadda yadda." 

"Sounds like she didn't read the slayer handbook either," said Buffy with a faint smile at her watcher. 

Giles didn't reply to the comment, but his eyes twinkled. "This family member, the vampire, who the writer calls 'the death of us all,' came to Sunnydale for a festival of some sort in the early 1900s, a ritual or ceremony or something of the like. Gaby, or whoever this girl was, followed him, apparently prepared to try a new cure she had discovered. The council, however, had other plans for her." 

"What happened?" Xander was sitting on the couch now, but he had slid out to the edge in interest and anticipation. 

"Well, it's only the accusation of the writer," Giles said, leaning down to look at the paper lying in front of him. "But it says here that the council 'unleashed the earth upon her and the vampires, dragging all involved into the depths'." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Buffy asked. 

"I wasn't sure until I got to the last line," said Giles, turning the paper over. "This was the end of his diary, since his slayer was dead, and they are always ended with the dates of service. He was her watcher from 1930 to 1937." 

"So she died here in Sunnydale in 1937," said Xander. "Wow. There's been vamp activity here for a quite a while." 

Willow's face had become even more pale than normal. Buffy didn't like Giles's tone or her friend's pallor. "What is it?" 

"I believe Willow has come to the same conclusion as I." 

"Will?" 

The girl, her eyes wide with disbelief and amazement, looked up at Buffy. "The year -- 1937. Unleashing the earth upon a vampiric ceremony and killing both the vampire and the slayer." Her eyes shifted to the loft for a second. "That's the year that the earthquake swallowed up the Master."   



	29. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Fourte

It was a twenty minute drive to the post office, but through the sewers it only took ten. Still, Angel allowed himself that extra ten minutes to gather up his courage. He stared at white marble that covered the arched doorway and tried to prepare himself for what might be inside. If the room was still empty, then they had misinterpreted the dreams, and they would be back to the beginning. If, however, the Oracles once again met him at the end of the impossibly long corridor, then he had an entirely different fear which he would have to face. A visit to the Oracles had never before been the herald of something pleasant. 

He steadied himself and spoke. "I beseech access to the knowing ones." 

When the mist had cleared, he was standing before two familiar figures. They had been right about the dreams. 

"I have a gift," Angel started. 

"Keep your drawing," the man said with a slight wave of his hand. 

"But I-" 

The woman shook her head. "We received your offering. Your entrance is paid." 

"What's happening?" Angel asked. "Why have so many come back to life? Why now?" 

"The young demon. She opened a portal to the other realm, but she is only a part of a larger plan." 

"A dangerous one," the man added. 

"What about the dreams? What do they mean? We dreamed of people and things long gone, yet they seem to be coming back." 

"It is an uncertain time," the woman said. "There is a task-" 

"An event-" the man continued. 

"An action they must each fulfill, or death will reclaim them as his prize." 

The man seemed to stare directly into Angel's soul. "But beware the powerful one." 

"The powerful one?" Angel asked. "But who-" 

The man stopped him by raising his hand. "There is only one more thing. One which we must say." 

"During the time when the walls between our world and that of the dead are tenuous," the woman clarified, "many doors will open." 

"Bring about that which is written, and your debt will be paid." 

"But be wary," the woman cautioned. "If you allow the doors to close, the end may not be as you expect." 

"But I don't understand," insisted Angel. "What I expect?" 

"Be wary." 

The man, ready to fling Angel from the room once again, spoke one last time. 

"Our task, is fulfilled." 


	30. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Fiftee

"What is she mumbling about?" the vampire asked her companion, pointing to the sleeping form stretched onto the bed in front of them. 

"Sounds like she's dreaming," he answered, not really interested. "We should wake her up so we can have some fun." 

"Yes, I'm bored." 

Drusilla rolled over, staring at the other two, and scowled. "Play nice. The stars are telling me wonderful things tonight." 

"Do those wonderful things involve dinner?" the vampire who had once been a human named Xander asked. 

"I saw the days to come. They told me they would be wonderful. Glorious. Blood spills over the edge of the world and into my arms. I wish it would come now." 

Willow, or the thing that had taken over her body, looked at her companion. "How can things be so wonderful to her when her prisoners got away?" 

Drusilla sat up suddenly and locked her hand around the other vampire's neck forcefully, her face contorting into its true visage. "Angel will still come to me. There are all sorts of little voices telling me that he will come, and the whispers never lie." 

Xander raised an eyebrow. "I'm in the mood to kill something." He pried Dru's fingers away from Willow's throat. 

"I need to hunt." Willow wrapped her arms around Xander's waist and purred softly in his ear. "I'm hungry." 

He kissed her ear lobe and nibbled on it slightly. "And hunt we will. We'll have a feast." 

They rose and walked toward the door, wanting to beat the impending morning. 

"Stay away from the new slayer." Drusilla moaned with a whining sound and shook at the thought of the dream. "In my mind, I see myself killing her, but it bodes terrible things. Awful things. I don't like her. She has the smell of death mixed with the stench of life."   
  


"The Master will be angry if he finds we have not brought him anything." 

"The Master is dead," the other answered. "Can't you feel it?" 

Luke frowned doubtfully. "I feel nothing." 

The younger one shrugged. "Your loss. I can feel everything. It's as if the world were humming to me." 

"You are a weakling," Luke said defiantly. "When the Master finds out about your neglectful behavior toward him, he will not-" 

He was cut off as the other vampire slammed him against the wall, showing an amount of force that never would have been expected of someone his size. 

"Do you still think I'm weak?" Letting Luke drop to the ground, he dusted off his hands and laughed. "You understand nothing. Your purpose here is limited. I wouldn't expect you to see the bigger picture." 

The pathway they were on led deep into the underground areas that had once been the Master's lair. Some of the passages had long since caved in, but most of them were still passable. The only light came from an occasional candle, enchanted to glow until another spell reversed the effect, and the eery stillness of everything was disturbed by the two tall shadows that passed through. 

One of those shadows seemed to glow independently of the candles. And he could feel that glow in his bones. 


	31. When the Past Haunts You Chapter Sixteen

"So you're saying that the watcher's council caused the earthquake that killed the Master?" Buffy asked. "Isn't that a bit extreme?" 

"Actually, no," Giles replied. "There are many documented cases of the council's involvement in cataclysmic events--floods, fires, earthquakes--all to mask the destruction of some-" 

He stopped when he realized the others were staring at him in disbelief. "There were no _public_ records, of course," he said, a bit sheepishly. 

"Do you really think the Master was the relative she was trying to cure?" Willow asked. "I mean, the Master was really old. Gaby would have to be a really distant descendent." 

"I thought the same thing," replied Giles. "But the journal says she followed the relative here for a ceremony, and that points to the Master." 

"Done!" Cordelia called brightly from the top of the stairs. "Even with the sparing tools I had, I've created a masterpiece. Oh, and I used your hairbrush, Giles. I hope you don't mind." 

Giles raised an eyebrow and sighed, but knew it would have done no good to comment. 

When Gabriella came down the stairs, they would not have known her for anything but a normal young person if they hadn't seen her before. Her straight, light brown hair was flowing neatly onto the shoulders of a sleeveless crimson top. She wore a long black skirt with it, the slits on the side showing off nicely shaped legs. The only things that set her apart from an average girl were her bare feet. 

"You look nice," Xander said politely. 

Gaby smiled shyly and sat back down in the seat she had occupied most of her time there. "These clothes feel so strange." 

"Well, they _are_ about a size too big," said Cordelia. 

Buffy flashed her an evil look. 

Giles was about to question Gaby about her past when Oz and Kendra arrived, nearly as empty-handed as the others had been. 

"The only problem we ran into was right outside the Bronze," said Oz with a sideways glance at Willow. "These two vamps had attacked these girls, pretty standard style." 

"We were unable to save one of them," Kendra input. "And the vampires both got away." 

"Losing your touch?" Xander quipped. A gaze from Buffy shut him up. 

"The vamps looked familiar," Oz continued, "but I couldn't place them." 

"They all start to look the same after a while," Buffy said with a sigh. "I sure hope Angel finds something in that book, because we're not getting much to go on here." 

Giles looked up at the clock. "The sun will start coming up the next few minutes. You should all go home, collect your stength and be ready to meet back here a few hours before sunset." 

"But what about-" Buffy started to protest. 

"There's nothing that will be out in the daylight," Giles insisted. "You'll be no good to fight if you don't get some sleep." 

The front door flew open and slammed hard against the wall. Spike strode in purposefully. "What the-" he started and then stopped. He looked at Kendra and asked, "What's this? Return of the Living Dead?" 

Xander started to make a smart comment, but he didn't get the chance. 

"Bloody hell." 

Buffy followed Spike's gaze directly to Gaby. 

"Do you know her?" she asked. 

Spike shrugged. "Sure. It's only right, after all." 

"What do you mean?" Giles asked. 

"Well, she _is_ my granddaughter, after all."   



	32. When the Past Haunts You, Chapter Sevent

Angel pushed open the trap door and climbed out into the place he was calling home for the time. It was nearly sunrise, he knew, and time for him to get some rest. 

"Wesley?" he called. 

"He's not here," a familiar voice answered. 

Angel turned toward the sound with almost too quick reflexes. The slender figure was dressed somewhat counter to the norm, but her attitude well made up for her attire. "Faith. How did you -- where's Wesley?" 

Faith raised an eyebrow at him. "What? You afraid I made quick work of your watcher bud and left the pieces for you to find later?" She snorted a laugh. "Not my style anymore." She held out her hand to reveal a handwritten note. 

Perusing the note's contents, Angel nodded and set it down on the end table. "That still doesn't explain what you're doing here." 

She shrugged. "That's where you and me are on the same page. There's some majorly weird stuff going on." 

Angel took a sudden step toward her. "What do you know? What's happening?" 

"Whoa there, tiger." Faith looked him up and down. "Something really is going on, isn't it? I knew the Powers That Be wouldn't just let me off for good behavior." 

"You were let out of prison?" 

"Apparently, I have a lawyer," she explained. "Creepy little guy with a really bad fashion sense. Anyway, I figured this was the place to come if something's up." 

Angel went into the kitchen and sorted through Wesley's materials, spread out on the table there. The copy of the Ishmarian Chronicles was just under a notepad with a few sketchy notes on it. Apparently Wesley had run into something he couldn't decipher -- hence his trip out for supplies. 

Faith followed him, staying a few steps back but tracking him with her eyes. He was anxious, she could tell. "Are you going to let me in on the big secret?" 

Angel turned and looked at her, not unkindly. "I wish I knew something. It's big, whatever it is. People and creatures returning from the dead, ominous dreams...." He paused. "Old friends." 

"All going down in Sunnydale, I take it?" 

Angel's lips turned up into a half-smile. "Up for it?" 

"I'm up for anything at this point." 

Somewhere behind them, a door opened. 

"Angel? Were you able to speak with--" Wesley halted both his speech and his movement the second he entered the room. 

"Wes, let me--" Faith sounded almost desperate, her voice a pitch higher than usual. 

"What is she doing here?" Wesley demanded, looking only at Angel. 

"The same thing we are," the other answered. "Things are coming about to get big -- we need her." 

"I'd have to disagree with the Powers on that one." 

"The age of the slayers, Wes. And you don't think it's one bit significant that she showed up here?" 

Wesley sneered. "Convenient, is more likely." 

"Look Mr. High and Mighty, Angel boy is not the only one here who gets a "Get Out of Jail Free" Redemption card. Did it ever occur to you that I can be useful when I want to be?" 

"Is that what you want?" he replied, looking at her directly for the first time. "To be useful? Useful to who?" 

Faith looked away, and directed her answer at Angel. "What do you need me to do?" 

"Have you gotten any sleep?" Angel asked as he picked up a heavy blanket from its pile in the corner. 

She nodded. "Yeah, several hours." 

"Good." He tossed her the car keys. "You're driving. We need to get some rest." 

Wesley was resigned to follow them, despite any lingering objections at Faith's involvement. Things were complicated enough, without adding her into the mix.... Still, Angel had a point. She was, after all, still a slayer. 

The door closed behind them with a loud click that echoed off of the still-bare walls of the offices. Moments later that sound was joined by another, louder sound: the telephone ringing. 

"Angel Investigations -- we help the helpless. Leave your crisis after the beep." Cordelia's voice was bright and cheerful. 

A muffled and confused-sounding, but unmistakenly Irish voice followed it. "Angel, Cordy, it's me. I'm in a town called Sunnydale. I'm not even sure how I got here. Man, my head feels like it's got the biggest vision hangover ever. I'm okay, just the memory's a bit fuzzy, ya know? Anyway, guess I'll try again in a bit." 

He hung up.   



End file.
